Iuga Sortis: Bound By Destiny
by bana05
Summary: Fate is a funny thing. :Complete: The sequel will be posted soon. Thanks for reading!
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

Though not a religious man, he couldn't help the smirk that formed across his face as he looked up at the sky—the bright _blue_, sun-filled sky—that provided the backdrop for the service.

"Your sense of humor is impeccable," he muttered, squinting as a large puffy cloud amble its way into the sun's path, making its rays more piercing than before.  A sudden wind swept across the land and he shivered, drawing his cloak closer to him as he broke out of his reverie.  He looked down, seeing the dirt disappear into the six-foot-deep hole.  The clumping sounds of the dirt hitting the casket made his eyes fill again and he closed them, determined not to breakdown in public.  After all, he had had a reputation to uphold.

"I know you loved her," a husky voice said from behind him. 

He said nothing and did not turn around, intently staring at the coffin being buried.

"Turn around a look at me," the voice said.  

Sighing heavily, he turned towards and looked at the man who had all but become his father.  The older man's eyes were flat and emotionless, void of their usual twinkle.

"Severus, say something _please_."

"What a nice day for a funeral.  I should think after she's properly covered we can have a picnic in the park," Severus said acidly.  

Dumbledore sighed, knowing this would be exceptionally difficult on the younger man.  "Severus . . ." 

"God mocks me, you know; creating such a gloriously sunny day as my life goes further into the abyss of darkness.  Apparently I haven't been sufficiently punished for my . . . _indiscretions_," Severus interrupted, lazily running his thumb over the skin inside his left wrist.  

Dumbledore knew the significance of the action but decided to ignore it.  "Jamilah wants to speak with you."

Severus nodded curtly before turning his attention back to the almost-covered grave.  His eyes softened and in a rare display of public tenderness, he knelt down to the headstone and kissed it.

"Until later, my love," he whispered, before standing up quickly and walking away, not once sparing a glance to the other man.

~~~~~

She brought the covers over the sleeping child, rubbing her wrinkled hand over soft curls.

"Mama's here, Mama's here," she cooed, listening to the child's steady breathing.  Today was a day no child should go through—watching a parent being buried at such a young age.  _Neither should a parent bury a child,_ Jamilah thought bitterly, wiping an errant tear from her cheek.  

"Jamilah."

At the sound of the voice, her tears came in earnest.  She turned, not bothering to dry her eyes.  Wordlessly she went into Dumbledore's arms, feeling a security she'd been hard pressed to find during the last few days.  Severus felt as if he were intruding on a tender moment and went to the bed Jamilah had just left.  The child lay on her side, her back facing him.  Severus gently sat on the bed, trying not to disturb her slumber.  He ran the back of his finger over her cheek, surprised at how soft her skin was—just like her mother's.

"Malika," Severus breathed, his voice full of longing for the woman he could never have again.  Apparently the child heard his soft plea for she shifted to her back, eyes opening to stare into his—Malika's eyes.

"Hi there, Little One," Severus said gently. 

Nia merely stared at him, her golden eyes seemingly piercing into his very soul.  She briefly glanced over to where her grandmother stood with Dumbledore before turning her attention back to him.

"How long y'all stayin' this time?" she asked, her Southern accent thick with sleep.

"I don't know, Little One," Severus said, his thumb idly running across her chubby cheek.  "We're on holiday right now, but soon we'll have to go back to England."

"It's not fair that the school where you teach at gives students a month off.  I wanna go there," she pouted, a full bottom lip poking out cutely.

Severus smiled.  "We'll see, Little One." 

"Am I going with you now?"

He moved his hand from her cheek to her head.  "Do you want to come with me?" he asked gently.

She glanced over at her grandmother again and hesitated, before finally shaking her head slowly.  "Grandma needs me," Nia said quietly.  Severus was torn between feeling relief and disappointment at Nia's answer.  "You'll still come visit me, right?" she asked anxiously.

"Of course, Little One," he replied, putting her fears at ease.

"Will I ever visit you in England?"

"We'll see, Little One." 

"Severus, it's time," Dumbledore said, walking up to the bed.

"Hi Grandpa Albus," Nia said sweetly.  Dumbledore bent down and kissed the little girl's forehead.

"Hello my dear Nia," Albus said tenderly.  She smiled at him, comforted by his soft smile and twinkling eyes.  "Do you mind if we steal Severus away for a spell?"

Nia shook her head sleepily.  "Are you coming back?"  Her eyeslids began to droop as sleep threatened to overcome her.

Severus smiled and kissed her forehead.  "I'll come back, Little One," he whispered against her forehead.  He pulled way to see she was already asleep.  With one last caress of her cheek, he nodded to Jamilah and Dumbledore, indicating he was ready.  They nodded in return and Jamilah led them down three sets of stairs—one to the ground floor, one to the basement, and the final to a secret room through which only magical folk could enter.

"_Lumos_."

The once dark room now filled with the soft light of candles placed throughout it.  It was modestly furnished; a round table with a white silk cloth covering it was placed in the center of the wood-paneled room.  There were three seats, as if the room knew exactly how many guests it would be having during this particular meeting.  They said nothing as they sat in their seats, the gravity and the urgency of the situation leaving them not knowing how to start.  Severus took the time to look at the woman before him, whose body seemed to have finally caught up to the years she had lived.  Jamilah was a young 66, her hair still maintaining the color of her youth, and exactly what her namesake meant—beautiful—even in her age.  But the current tragedy upon her family was taking its toll on her.  There were sags under her amber eyes and her café-au-lait skin seemed paler than normal.  Severus noted that she'd lost considerable weight since he'd last seen her; she clearly wasn't eating.  Jamilah was unnerved by his perusal of her and she cleared her throat in discomfort.

"She predicted this," Jamilah began without preamble.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, forefingers in a steeple.  Severus looked at his older colleagues in confusion.

"Who predicted this?  Do you mean Malika?"

"Nia," Dumbledore replied, concentrating hard on a spot on the table.

"And how do you know this?" Severus asked skeptically.

"Malika told me Nia's dream about 2 months before it came to pass," Jamilah sighed.

"And no one here thought to tell me!  If I'd had known I could've done something!  I could've—"

"Stopped it, and we couldn't afford to let that happen," Dumbledore said seriously.

Severus glared, hating it when Dumbledore did that.  "So you're saying that Nia has the Sight?"

Jamilah shrugged.  "I'm saying, considering who she is, it is a definite possibility."

"Does she even _know_ who she is?" Severus sneered.  Dumbledore looked pointedly at the younger man before sighing and sitting straight again.

"Malika left letters to Nia for her to read three years apart--no sooner and no later.  The first is to be read whenever she gets her first blood, which according to Malika should be around Christmastime during her twelfth year," Jamilah said, handing Dumbledore the letters.

"Why so precise?" Severus asked, though subconsciously already knowing the answer.

"Everything has to be done exactly like my grandmother said, or we'll miss this opportunity.  It only comes once every millennia, and unfortunately my ancestors messed up the last time," Jamilah said sardonically.

"Did Malika tell her _anything_?" Severus asked.

"Apparently Malika told Nia that she was a special person who would do special things when she got older," Dumbledore said, a small smile forming and the twinkle in his eyes sparkling a bit brighter.  

It was all Severus could do not to roll his eyes.  "She would say something like that," he chuckled.

"Leka didn't want to frighten her anymore than she already was.  How would you feel if you dreamt of your mother's death," Jamilah said heatedly, defending her late daughter's actions.

"Jamilah, love, he wasn't being malicious," Dumbledore said, patting the woman's hand.

"So where will the child be staying then?" Severus asked, redirecting the conversation.

"She will be with me until she turns twelve, then she'll got to Hogwarts to begin her training," Jamilah replied.

"We should tell her who she is now," Severus said pointedly.  "It's bad enough we kept the secret from her this long.  Look what happened to _Potter!_"

"Ah, but Harry is his father's son.  Nia is a totally different child," Albus said amusedly.

"No thanks to _her_ father," Jamilah said, looking at Severus in an accusatory fashion.  This time Severus rolled his eyes unabashedly, not willing to hear her opinions of that particular subject yet again.  "Do you really think Nia is the person your Grandmother Saw?" Severus asked, once he regained control of himself.

"Seems that way.  All is happening as it's been foretold.  If things continue on this course, pretty soon Set will be annihilated," Jamilah said.  

Albus sighed heavily.  "But that cannot happen until Voldemort's destroyed."


	2. One

_One_

_(Three Years Later)_

Sleep refused to come.  It didn't matter what position she tried, it flat out did not come.  How could it, when her mind was so active?  She'd left her home in Charleston to move across the Atlantic to live in a strange place, full of strange people with strange powers.  _Let's not forget you're one of these _strange_ people now_, a voice in the back of her mind reminded her.  Though it had been three years since her mother told her who she was, Nia Roberts still couldn't wrap her mind around it.  While her grandmother had taught her some things, it was imperative Nia finish her education at Hogwarts like her mother did.  "They have the best teachers there, and you'll be living with children just like you.  Pretty soon you'll never want to leave!" Jamilah had told her as she prepared her for her plane earlier yesterday.  Nia sucked her teeth at that, thinking her grandmother didn't know what she was saying.  She wouldn't like it here—they don't even have televisions!  She missed her shows and missed her friends back home.  Groaning she threw off the covers and grabbed her mother's old wand from the nightstand.

"_Lumos_."  The wand emitted a bluish-white light, strong enough for her to see from, but not to wake up the others.  She slipped into her slippers and out of the second year girls' dorm and made her way to the common room.  The area was nothing short of immaculate.  There were green plush sofas with sliver lining to match the emerald green carpet.  She took off her slippers, and realized it was soft, feeling like new grass underneath her bare feet, a testament to how luxurious and no doubt expensive it was.  The tables were made of ebony with ivory tops, and the candlestick fixtures were of three silver snakes that were coiled at the base to separate at the top, the candles placed inside their open mouths.  Though it was the dungeon, there was a roaring fire in the fireplace warming it, complete with silver pokers to stoke the logs.  She had never seen such opulence.  So involved with studying the room she sat down on the couch, only to be promptly kicked off of it and onto to the floor.

"What the--"

"Don't you ever watch before you place your bum where it's not wanted?"

The question effectively cut off her impending tirade.  "_Bum?_" she asked, slightly amused.

"Yes.  Bum, backside, butt, a--"

"I get it!  I get it!  _Jeez,_" Nia said, holding up her hands for the person to stop.  She absently rubbed the place where she'd been kicked in an attempt to soothe it.

"Great.  Now get this—_leave_."

Nia gasped, indignant, and whirled to give the person a piece of her mind.  Before she could utter a word the person sat up, challenging her to lay in on him.  Never before had she seen such _blonde hair_!  It was practically platinum, and it was hanging into a pair of the loveliest gray eyes she'd ever seen.  He was broad in the shoulders and tall—obviously an older boy.  He definitely didn't have a face that made milk curdle she thought, but he was very pale.  Sensing her perusal of him, he smirked, well aware of the effect he had on her.

"And another one succumbs to the god that is Malfoy," he said smugly.

"_Excuse_ me?" she asked, breaking out her inspection of him.

"I'm sorry sweet, but I dare say you're a bit too young for me.  As it is, are you even supposed to be here?  You don't even look old enough to be a first year!"

"I'm a _second_ year!" Nia bit out angrily, folding her arms under her chest.  She wondered why the first person she'd meet in her House would come off as such a jerk.

Draco's eyes perked up a bit at that.  While her _face_ didn't look like a second year, her body had curves that could damn well put many of _his_ yearmates to shame—even if she was a little round.  But he quickly ended that train of thought and sneered at her again.  "Well, either way, it's still passed your bedtime.  Now run along, little girl and leave me in peace before I give you a detention."

"And _who_ do you think you are?" she asked, her annoyance rising with each passing minute.

He grinned evilly.  "I'm a fifth year, a prefect, a Malfoy, and Snape's favorite student—not necessarily in that order of importance."

"And you're a punk."

Draco didn't quite know what a punk was, but by the tone of her voice, he knew it wasn't something good.  "Oooh, so the Little One has spunk.  No matter, I've been called worse things," he said with nonchalance.

"Don't call me that!  Only my Daddy calls me that!"

Draco was charmed despite himself; very few people had the gall to stand up to him whose last names were not Potter, Weasley, or Granger.  "And is your daddy here?" he sneered.

Nia raised an eyebrow, looking smug.  "Yes."

That shut him up quickly, and he peered at her.  "Who's your daddy?"  Nia couldn't help it; she began to laugh.  "What's so funny about that?" he asked, confused by her reaction.

"In America that usually means one of three things, two of which I'm sure you didn't mean.  But that doesn't mean it ain't funny," she explained.

"Uh-huh," Draco said skeptically.

"So what 'worse things' do people call you?"

He smirked.  "As if I'm going to tell _you_ that, you're liable to take up the game."

"Well, what does your family call you?"

His expression softened as he thought about his mother.  "Dragon," he said wistfully.

"Dragon," she said, scrunching up her nose as she tested the name on her tongue.  

For some unknown reason, his pet name sounded cute, even endearing coming from this short, plump girl who had encroached on his private time.  He removed his long legs from the couch, swinging his feet to the floor.  "Sit."

Nia looked at him askance and he couldn't help but chuckle.

"Weren't you just kicking me out not two seconds ago?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Changed my mind.  I _can_ do that you know," he shrugged.

She cautiously went to the couch and sat down, well out of his reach.  They sat in silence, watching the fire blaze as they became lost in their thoughts.  Draco looked at his companion, smiling a bit that her legs couldn't reach the floor as she rested against the back of the couch.  Her hair was braided to her scalp, with the ends covered in beads and falling to her shoulders.  The lilac tank top she wore exposed her chubby mahogany arms as she cradled a pillow to her chest.  Perhaps her most striking feature were her eyes—golden like the fire they were watching, so unlike his own silver eyes.

"Do you like what you see?"

He jumped, then cursed himself for being caught staring at her.  She smiled at him good-naturedly.  "Don't worry you don't have to answer that.  It was just that your gaze unnerved me a bit," she explained.

"Draco."

"Huh?"

"My name is Draco.  It's Latin for dragon."

Nia turned away from the fire and smiled at him.  _She has such a gorgeous smile_, he thought, _those dimples will break many a heart._  

"Ah, that explains it.  I'm Nia, then," she said, extending her hand.  He shook it, noting her grip was warm yet strong.

Draco cleared his throat, asking the first question that came to mind.  "You're not from England are you?"

"I'm from the States, Charleston, South Carolina to be more specific."

"I've been to the States, but never there.  I've been to LA, New York, Boston . . ."

"Big cities.  Charleston's tiny compared to those places."

"Yeah, but you don't sound like some of the Americans I've talked to," he noted.

"I'm from the South, we talk differently down there," she told him.  

Draco nodded in acceptance, then frowned.  "How are you a second year?  I don't remember seeing you here last year."

"My grandmother just told me this summer that I'd be going to school here.  Up until then I went to regular school," she shrugged.

He scowled at that.  "You mean Muggle schools?"

"Problem?" she challenged.

Something told him he didn't want to get on her bad side.  "No.  So, you went to a Muggle school in the States; are you Muggle-born then?"

She rolled her eyes.  "Apparently not if I got Sorted into Slytherin!  Besides, my mother went to this school."

"Which house?"

"Gryffindor."

Draco snorted.

"Problem?" she asked again, twisting so that she could face him.

"Merlin!  _Why_ would I have a problem with the _Golden_ house of Hogwarts where the _Golden _boy of the wizarding world lives along with his _Golden_ sidekicks?" he said sarcastically.

"Well I've always been partial to silver," she deadpanned.  

Draco surprised himself by laughing at her comment, the simple statement breaking him out of his momentary foul mood.  "You must hate your eyes then," he said, looking into them.

"Eh, they serve their purpose, and nothing that colored contacts couldn't fix," she said blasé.  "But I do like yours."

That was probably the first genuine compliment he'd heard in his entire time at Hogwarts, and he couldn't contain his blush.  If Nia noticed, she decided not to comment on it.

"So," he said, clearing his throat, "your mother was a graduate of Hogwarts, Gryffindor no less."

"Yup."

"And you didn't know you were a witch," he asked, looking incredulous.

"I didn't ask, she didn't tell," she said.

"Clearly you're father's a wizard because you said he was here.  Let's think; who is the only wizard here young enough to be your father?" he thought aloud, tapping his finger on his chin.  His eyes widened in shock.  " . . . _Snape_!"

Nia giggled.  "Yup."

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.  "But you're black!" he sputtered, momentarily forgetting his sense of etiquette.

"Ain't you a quick one?" she said sardonically.

He glared at her, indignant.  "But you have a different last name than Snape!"

"How do you know my last name?" she asked, eyes narrowed.  

Draco rolled his eyes.  "McGonagall only told the _entire school_ when she called your name to be Sorted!"

Nia was glad that her skin was dark enough to hide her blush.  "Yeah so?  It's my mother's maiden name," she muttered.

"That's odd," he acknowledged.

Nia shrugged.  "Well, I've already told you too much.  No one is supposed to know my relationship to Snape so could you please not tell anyone?"

"Ok."

"Pinky promise."

"Pinky _what_?"

"It's a Muggle thing, like sealing the deal, making it binding or something.  All you gotta do is link your right pinky with mine's and kiss your thumb.  It's perfectly harmless."  Draco looked at her in exasperation before finally offering his pinky to her and doing as she said.  She was right; the ritual was painless.

"Never thought I'd see the day where I'd voluntarily do something Muggle," he said, shaking his head in awe.

"First time for everything, right?" she asked, yawning a bit towards then end of her comment.

Draco smirked.  "Go to bed," he ordered, but without his earlier malice.  She stuck out her tongue at him and he laughed—his first real laugh in years.

"I like your laugh.  It's nice," she commented.

"Guess I'll have to laugh more often, eh?"

"Guess so," she said.  She stood and stretched, her tank top riding up to expose her belly button.

"Stop starin' at my gut," she chastised, her drawl thicker than before as she pulled her tank top down again.

He grinned.  "A couple of laps around the pitch should make that gut disappear in a snap," he teased.

"It's baby fat," she mumbled half-heartedly, pouting like a six-year-old.  

He laughed again and pointed his wand at the fire.  "_Desino."  The blaze went out, leaving only the soft light of the candles to illuminate the room._

"Shall we?" he asked, offering an arm to her.

"We shall," she said, taking his arm and using him for balance as she stepped into her slippers.  He walked her to the dungeon wall that led to the girls' hallway and muttered the password.  The wall slid open and he felt her eyes on him in a silent question.

"I'm a prefect remember?" he said with a half-smile.

"Lord help us all," she gibed.  She began to walk down the hall when she turned and walked back to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head, a small smile on her face.  "It's just that I came out there tonight because I couldn't sleep and I felt all alone.  Now I'm bone-tired and I've made my first friend.  Fate's funny like that, ain't it?" she asked, tilting her head to the side in thought.  

"Yeah, I guess she is."

Nia chuckled.  "Goodnight _Dragon.  See you tomorrow," she said, impulsively kissing his cheek before she left._

Draco stood there dazed, not used to such genuine displays of affection from someone other than his mother.  He smiled and left to go to his own room.  Truer words were never spoken, for in Nia, Draco found his first true friend.


	3. Two

_Two_

It was only the first day of classes, and already five cauldrons had melted because of bumbling students not paying attention—_five.  Severus sighed, running a hand across his face as he leaned back in his chair.  Between running missions for Dumbledore and making sure students didn't kill themselves or blow up the school, Severus was tired.  Not to mention his "favorite" class was next—Gryffindor/Slytherin fifth years._

_Great.  Now I get to play referee, too!_

He sighed again, wondering what he did to deserve this.

_You know very well what you did__._

Severus rubbed the inside of his left wrist in regret.  He didn't feel like going to the Great Hall for lunch, opting instead to eat in the privacy of his classroom.  At least, that had been his intention.

"Daddy!"

His eyes snapped up to see Nia grinning mischievously as she lifted herself on and off the ground using his desk.

He returned the grin.  "Shouldn't you be in the Great Hall, Miss Roberts?" he said, leaning over his desk, hands clasped together.

"Shouldn't you?" she returned, her smile never leaving her face.

He chuckled then.  She was surely her mother's child.

"My, my, Little One, you shouldn't be talking to your professor and Head of House in such a manner," he warned, raising an eyebrow.

Nia rolled her eyes.  "You're not my professor now.  I don't have your class until tomorrow!"

"Then why are you here?  Has anyone given you trouble?" 

Nia shrugged.  "I've missed you."

Severus's black eyes softened, and he held out his hands to her.  "Come here, Little One."  Nia walked around the desk and sat in Snape's lap, her ear to his chest as she listened to his heartbeat.  He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him.  "I wonder, how is it you have time to miss me when you just arrived?"

"Yeah, but you didn't come home this summer.  It's been almost a year since I've seen you!" she whined.

"I'm sorry, Little One.  Dumbledore needed me to . . . take care of a few things," he said, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

Nia lifted those golden eyes to his, and he closed his, seeing her mother peering back at him.  "That's alright.  I understand."

"How are your classes so far?"

Nia scowled.  "I do not like that Umbridge lady," she muttered, referring to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.  "She has this . . . condescending way of talking to us."  

He chuckled.  "No more so than me, hmm?"

Nia shook her head.  "No.  At least you're funny.  She's downright mean.  Just something about her makes my skin crawl.  I have a bad feeling about her."

Severus frowned, filing that bit of information for later when he spoke to Dumbledore.  "Let's change subjects, shall we?  What about the students?  Have you made any friends?"

Nia immediately perked up.  "Yeah!  I met Draco, and he's awesome!  We stayed up last night talking, and—"

"That explains why you had your robe on backwards this morning, too sleepy to know the difference!" he teased.

Nia looked indignant.  "Daddy!" she chastised, crossing her arms in front of her and pouting.

He chuckled and kissed her head.  "Sorry Little One, it was too golden an opportunity."

"Yeah, well, he's the only one so far.  I've met some people in my year in my classes, but we didn't really talk all that much," she finished.

"You have to give it time, yet Little One.  It's only the first day of classes."

Nia shrugged.  "Okay, I guess." 

"In the mean time, I want you to meet me after dinner.  I want to hear all about your first day."

"Okay."

The bell rang, and she got off his lap, going back to pick up her book bag.  "Imma go now.  I have class with McGonagall now.  She as strict as people say?"

His mouth quirked in amusement.  "Let's just say she's not Professor Umbridge," he promised.  She frowned, determining if that was good news or bad.  The Slytherin students began filing in, and she spotted Draco.  Nia lifted her head in greeting, getting a smirk in return.  "Bye," she mouthed to Professor Snape, and he nodded imperceptibly.

"Hey, Little One!  Better hurry to class, before you get detention!" Draco called out, earning a laugh from his classmates.

"You better get a brain, before you don't graduate!" Nia shot back with a wink.  "_Oohs" and "__She told you!'s" were heard as she left the dungeon, and she giggled as Snape's voice telling them to settle down.  She rummaged through her bag looking for her schedule and map as she passed by more students heading to Potions class, so focused on her search she didn't see where she was going.  She bumped into one.  "Whoops, sorry," she said, looking into a pair of glazed, yet brilliant green eyes.  They seemed to look right through her, not even aware she'd run into him._

"Huh?  Oh yeah, no problem," the boy muttered absently, continuing his trek to the classroom.

There were two more students—a boy and a girl—who were arguing incessantly behind him, and she thought maybe he was trying to block them out. 

_I would, too, the way they're carrying on_, Nia thought to herself.  She checked her watch and realized she was cutting it close, picking up her pace to head to Transfiguration.

~~~~~~~

He couldn't get those eyes out of his head.  They didn't leave when he'd botched his Draught of Peace, when Snape humiliated his again in front of the class, during Ron and Hermione's latest row, or when he got kicked out of Professor Umbridge's class for telling her the truth—despite her wish not to hear it.  So now he lay on his bed—having just left Professor McGonagall's after Umbridge threw him out of class—seeing those eyes.  They were the color of fire and had glinted even in the dim dungeon light.  Harry had never seen such eyes: large, round and captivating.  He frowned, then, wondering what that meant.  A feeling of electricity hit him when they ran into each other, and when she spoke it was as if in her he had found the answer to everything confusing in his life.  The only thing was he had absolutely no idea who she was.

Great!  As if life couldn't get any more complicated! he thought sardonically.  Not only was he facing a newly resurrected Voldemort, a defiant and recalcitrant Ministry of Magic, and a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher from hell, but now his love life was becoming more active with Cho Chang's apparent interest in him, not to mention puberty.  Harry snorted, his mood going south once again.  He placed his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, letting his eyes droop as he finally allowed sleep to overcome him.

_Apedemak swung his adamantium sword against his foe, annihilating him with one swift stroke.  He exhaled heavily, the stench of death permeating his senses.  Apedemak was bloody and exhausted, but victorious once again.  These battles were taking a toll on him, despite the fact he was a god.  Shaking his head, he wiped the crimson liquid from his sword, only to feel a prickling sensation at his back. ___

_"Apedemak."_

_Apedemak instantly recognized the cold voice, turning to see the Dark Lord hold his axe over his head, ready to strike_

_Thanatos grinned evilly.  "You may have won this battle, but you cannot win the war!" he taunted.  "Look around you!  Your forces have dwindled considerably, and some of your noble army has fled.  Give up the throne, and I promise we will not kill you _too_ painfully!"  _

_Apedemak glared at him, not to be swayed.  "I have justice on my side.  You will get what's coming to you.  You will never have my throne.  I'll fight to the death!" he snarled, as he swung his mighty sword at his adversary.  Thanatos sidestepped it cleanly, and swung his axe, missing Apedemak by only a hair.  The Dark Lord growled in frustration and tried again, this time completely missing the lion-headed god.  ___

_"You're getting slack, Thanny," Apedemak taunted, circling him with a glint in his eye.  _

_Thanatos sneered.  "My Death Hunters and I _will_ prevail!  I _will_ have control over this realm!" Thanatos proclaimed, eyes wild.  _

_Apedemak smirked.  "Not if I have anything to do with it!"  He thrust his sword again, and the axe caught it, preventing the strike.  The two gods entangled in a bloodthirsty dance, each one trying to win the upper hand.  Finally Apedemak's sword cut through Thanatos, leaving a green trail in its wake.  Thanatos looked down at his wound, then giving a screech, he attacked Apedemak in earnest, his eyes feral and his attacks erratic.  Apedemak was patient, avoiding each offensive calmly and cleanly._

_Thanatos gave an un-godly huff.  "Why won't you die!?"_

_"'Tis not my destiny to die at your hand!"_

_This only served to enrage Thanatos further, and he ran toward the lion-headed god madly.  Apedemak was ready, though, and as Thanatos lifted his axe to strike, Apedemak ran his sword directly through his green heart, his blood oozing out and covering this sword.  _

_Thanatos had a look of utter shock on his face, before it turned into a sadistic smile.  "Looks at though we'll both meet our ends tonight, aye, my lord?" he croaked, as his life seeped out of his body around the sword.  The look of confusion flashed briefly across Apedemak's face, before he felt the stab of a sword in his back.  Apedemak's eyes widened at the searing pain shooting through his body, barely cognizant of Thanatos' body falling to the ground in a heap.  The grip on his sword loosened, and Apedemak staggered as he turned to look into the eyes of his attacker.___

_"Set!" Apedemak gasped, his blood drooling out of his mouth.  _

_The red god said nothing, only looked at Apedemak as he sank to the floor.  "Not only did you help my biggest foe, but you took the very thing that would ensure me of unparalleled power.  But now your meddling comes to an end!  Finally it is all mine!  _Mine!_"  Set walked up to the dying corpse of Apedemak and spat on it.  "May you rot in Thanatos' hell," he wished and smiled a smile that sent cold shivers up Apedemak's broken spine._

_Apedemak's gaze was growing hazy, barely making out Set's Apparation.  As he felt the cold and darkness surround him, Apedemak heard a voice hearkening him back._

_"Apedemak!" the voice whispered frantically.  "Don't you _dare!_"  _

_He barely felt the hand go back to his wound, as the other went to support his head.  He opened his eyes wearily and saw a full red lip being held between white teeth.  Tears were streaming, and he lifted a weak hand to the face, wiping them away._

_"Don't you _dare_ think of dying on me.  We need you!  _I_ need you!" the voice finished weakly._

_He felt a forehead upon his, and he rolled his eyes at the feeling of peace that overcame him.  The wound stopped throbbing, and his body went limp.  Apedemak's eyes refocused one last time, before he welcomed unconsciousness, and he stared into a pair of eyes the color of the sun.  He sighed a name on his final breath before drifting into the unknown._

_"Isis . . ."_  

Harry shot up panting, bringing his hand unconsciously to his back.  He heaved a sigh in relief, only to realize his name was being called.  

"Blimey, Harry!  Are you alright, mate?"

"Uh . . ." Harry grunted, checking his body for other wounds.

_The dream seemed so real_.  He felt himself being shaken, his eyes crossing at the force of it.  "Argh, Ron!  I'm fine!" he said, breaking out of his haze.  

Ron didn't look convinced, but he stopped shaking him.  "Are you sure, mate?  You were writhing all over the bed and muttering."

"Could you understand what I was saying?"

Ron shook his head apologetically.  "Anyway, it's dinnertime.  I came up to see if you wanted to go down."

Just then Harry's stomach gave a growl.  The two boys smiled at each other.

"I'll take that as a yes!" Ron said.  They left the common room and met Hermione and Ginny, who were waiting on them.

"How was McGonagall?  She wasn't too mad, was she?" Hermione asked, as they stepped out of the portrait.

"She warned me to not lose my temper," Harry shrugged.  "But she wouldn't exempt me from the detention, so I have to go to those."

Hermione looked at him sadly.

"That Umbridge woman is positively evil," Ginny muttered.  "I long for the days of Lupin.  Heck, even Lockhart!"  Hermione got a dreamy look on her face while Harry and Ron rolled their eyes, but they couldn't help but agree with Ginny's statement.  As they walked closer to the Great Hall, they saw Goyle and Crabbe poking fun at one of the Gryffindor first years, holding his wand above his wand in the air and out of reach.

"Give it back!" the brown-haired boy yelled, jumping up in vain to grasp it.

"Give what back?" Goyle said dumbly.  Crabbe snickered.

"Give it back to him, you great big tub o' lard!" Ron yelled, flashing his prefect's badge.  All four pulled out their wands, ready to defend themselves and the first year.

"My, my, my, if it isn't the Golden Trio, or should I say, quartet?"  

Harry's lip curled as he heard the sickening drawl.  He slowly turned around to see the owner of the voice.  "Malfoy," he muttered, stepping away from the group, ready to finish whatever Malfoy would start.  Just then another person appeared from behind Malfoy, and he hesitated.  Harry's arm fell limply at his side.

"Isis."


	4. Three

_Three_

Ginny frowned, wondering what Harry was going on about.  She turned around and left Hermione and Ron to deal with Crabbe and Goyle.  She cursed the catch of her breath, clearly she was _not_ immune to the sight before her.  His platinum blonde hair was slicked back as usual, and his school robes were open, revealing his house sweater, white Oxford shirt, and gray slacks.  Though it was a standard uniform, Ginny wondered how someone so bad could make something so plain look _so good_.  Simply put, Draco was gorgeous.  

Draco chose that moment to move his attention from Harry to her, meeting his eyes.  He smirked.

_And he knew it._

"Like what you see, Little Weasel?"

_Smarmy git_.

"Don't call her that!" Harry said, walking closer to the Slytherin Seeker.

It was all Ginny could do not to roll her eyes.  She could fight her own battles, thank you very much.

"Actually I was just wondering when Hogwarts decided it would start accepting ferrets into the school," she said coolly.

Draco didn't miss a beat.  "Around the time they decided to let in the litter of weasels, I daresay."

Ginny heard Draco's goons laughing, and this time she did roll her eyes.  She grinned slightly, however, when she saw the girl do the same thing.

"Sod off, Malfoy!" Harry snarled, raising his wand even further.

She noticed his eyes kept flicking back to the other girl, and she was staring back just as intently.  

"What are you staring at, Potter?" Draco asked, noticing his adversary's attention was elsewhere.  He followed Harry's gaze and saw it on Nia.  He gave a half-smile and looked back at Harry.  "Interested?" he sneered.

Harry made a face, concealing the fact that Draco's barb had hit its mark.  "I'd never be interested in Slytherin scum," he bit out.

Ginny winced, both at her own "interested" thoughts of Draco, and at the hardening of the other girl's once-fascinated amber eyes.

"No more than _I'd_ be interested in Gryffindor grime," she spat.

It was apparent to Ginny that the tenor of this "meeting" had drastically changed—the attention was now on the smaller Slytherin.  

_This should prove interesting_, she mused, crossing her arms in front of her.

Ron whirled around, his focus on Crabbe and Goyle forgotten.  "_Who_ are _you_ calling grime!?"

"Did I stutter?" Nia asked, jutting her hip out and crossing her arms in front of her; her attention never left Harry.  Ginny saw him gulp, obviously at a loss what to do.  

"What year are you?" Ginny asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Nia moved her attention from Harry and looked at her.  The hardness left her eyes, but only a little.  "Second year."

"Welcome to Hogwarts."

Nia gave a chuckle.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!  SHE'S THE ENEMY!" Ron practically bellowed.  

"Ron!  Keep your voice down!" Hermione chastised.

"She hasn't done anything to me," Ginny shrugged.

Nia smirked.  "Anyway, enough of this.  I'm hungry, and I have to meet Snape in . . . thirty minutes.  So if it's all the same to you, I'll be going now."  Ginny watched as Nia walked to the Great Hall.  

"Wait a minute!"

Ginny was surprised by Harry's outburst, and by the look on his face, so was he.  Nia looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and he cleared his throat, regaining his composure.

_Is that a blush?_

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Roberts," Nia replied.

"No first name?"  

Nia looked at Draco then turned back to Harry.  "Something tells me you won't be using it anytime soon, _Potter_," she said frankly, and with that, she walked past the group and into the Great Hall without a backwards glance.  

Draco smirked and followed her.  He gave the trio a mock salute and Ginny a wink.  "See you around, Potter."  He walked into the Great Hall with Crabbe and Goyle falling in line.

Ginny grinned in spite of herself.

"I KNOW HE DIDN'T JUST WINK AT MY SISTER!  BLOODY PRAT!"  

Ginny rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, storming into the Great Hall.  _He's not the only bloody prat! _she thought, furious.

~~~~~~~~~~

Draco was seething.  How _dare _she have hair like fire, eyes like chocolate, and skin like cream?  How _dare_ she grow up and fill out over the summer without his permission?  And most of all, how _dare_ he be attracted to a Weasley?  

A Weasley!

A measly Weasley!

He chuckled at that rhyme, but it did little to lessen his ire.

"Stupid Little Weasel."

"Don't be mad at her because you have the hots for her," a voice at his side warned.

Draco growled, clenching his teeth in frustration.  "I _seem_ to recall a _certain_ second year Slytherin staring _pretty hard_ at a certain Boy-Who-Bloody-Lived."  

Nia humphed.  "But unlike _you, __I'm not a lifelong enemy.  Though his attitude sure turns off a body, don't it."  She broke off a piece of bread and ate it.  Draco grunted, not bothering with a response.  "So articulate when we're mad," she teased._

Draco threw his fork down in irritation.  "This year, I can already tell, will be a pain in my ass." 

"Ooh!  Potty mouth!"

Draco glared at her.  "Shut it."

"Hey Nia, you want that?" Goyle asked, pointing at a turkey breast on her plate.  She shook her head, and he snatched it off her plate and put it on his own.  

Draco frowned in disgust.  "That's your fifth piece of turkey!"

Goyle shrugged.  "I'm a growing boy!"

Nia laughed.  "Yeah!  Around your middle!"

The people surrounding them laughed.

"That's not nice, Nia!" Goyle pouted, bits of turkey oozing out of his mouth.  

Nia gave a look of revulsion.  "Neither is seeing dead turkey out of your mouth!" she chastised, putting napkins up to his lips

"It's about time someone taught them some manners," Draco said in relief.

"And just what have you been doing for the past five years?"  Draco's mouth dropped open, at a loss what to say.  "Yeah, that's what I thought." 

"I don't like you right now," Draco muttered, very un-Malfoy like.

Nia laughed and pinched his cheek.  "Aw!  You're such a baby!"

He scowled at that, slapping her hand away and holding his cheek.  "I'm not a baby."

"Whatever you say, dear."

He ignored her comment and shoved his fork in his mashed potatoes.

"And _then I heard he said He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and he saw him come back last year during the Tri-Wizard Tournament.  I tell you, Potty's off his rocker; Dumbledore, too," Pansy Parkinson said in a loud whisper, hoping her gossip would carry over to the other tables, which it did.  _

"Yeah, right, You-Know-Who is back.  Didn't Potter kill the bloke?" Blaise Zabini asked, pouring pumpkin juice into his glass.

"You know Gryffindors—always entering a job half-arsed," Goyle cracked, who was far smarter than most people thought.  

"Personally I think Potter's face scared him away; though I don't see why he'd come back, since Potter only got uglier," Crabbe added.  The others at the table looked at them in shock, then laughed merrily; all but Draco and Nia.

"Who is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and what does he have to do with Potter?" Nia whispered in Draco's ear.

He looked at her with a blank expression.  "Stick around, Little One, you'll find out in due time."

Angelina Johnson chewed quietly as she listened to Hermione recount their run-in with Malfoy and his cronies.

"She's obviously not from around here.  Didn't you hear her accent?  It's not even Irish!"

"I don't bloody care where she's from.  She had no right to talk to us like that!" Ron muttered and stabbed angrily into his shepherd's pie.

Hermione and Ginny rolled their eyes at each other.

"Finish the story, Ron," Ginny said, glaring at her older brother.  "She didn't say that until _after_ Harry called her Slytherin scum, and she didn't even do anything!"

"Taking up for a Slytherin, are we?  Where's your sense of House solidarity?" George asked, aghast.  

"Yeah!  What kind of Weasley are you?" Fred asked as he reached over Angelina's plate for another roll.  She glared at him but said nothing.

"A Weasley with a mind of her own!" Ginny exclaimed.  "What are you going to do about it, hmm?"

Fred looked nonplussed, not used to this kind of behavior from his sister.

"Whatever happened to sweet, innocent, Ginny?" George asked rhetorically.  He _tsked at her and shook his head.._

"Oh, come off it, you two!  She grew up; people tend to do that, you know," Angelina said, rolling her eyes.

Ginny gave her a grateful look.  Fred just made a face at Angelina and continued eating.

"You know, they could at least _pretend_ I can't hear what they are saying.  They believed me _before term let out," Harry muttered, sinking further into his chair._

Angelina felt sorry for the younger boy.  He had his whole experience from last year being mocked, ridiculed, or just plain denied.  But she was still upset that he got detention for being ornery to a teacher.  Keeper tryouts were that week, and she'd hope to have all the current members of the team present.

"Yes well, just be sure to temper your tongue more often; we can't afford for our Seeker to be missing practices if we want the Quidditch Cup this year," she told him.

Harry didn't even acknowledge she'd spoken.  

"Let's get out of here," Hermione said angrily, throwing her utensils in her plate.  Harry got up as well and Ron followed, though somewhat reluctantly—he was partial to his apple pie.  The Hall went quiet as they watched the trio leave.

"People are so damn nosy," Angelina groaned.

"Now, now, what language, love?" Fred said cheekily.

Angelina ignored him.  "Alicia, what time is it?"

"Ten till eight, why?"

"I've got to go meet McGonagall," Angelina answered, standing from her place.  "She might want to go over plans for the Quidditch season, I don't know . . ."

"As long as you don't turn into Wood, I don't much care what you do, so long as we win," George said, his mouth full of food.

Angelina looked at him in disgust.  "Yeah, whatever.  See you all later."  She walked out of the Great Hall directly to McGonagall's office where the Head of House sat, already waiting.

"Good evening, Miss Johnson, I trust dinner was well?"

"Yes Professor," Angelina answered politely.

McGonagall nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer, and pulled her chair closer to the desk, picking up a piece of parchment from it.  She grabbed the glasses that were hanging from her lap and placed them on the bridge of her nose as she read the parchment.

McGonagall frowned.

Angelina shifted in her seat.

"Ah yes," the professor said, finally putting down the parchment to look at the apprehensive seventh-year.  "Are you all right, Miss Johnson?"  

Angelina shook her head.  "I'm a bit nervous, actually.  Does this have anything to do with my captaincy?"

McGonagall scoffed at that, waving her hand as if to shoo the idea away.  "Heavens, no!  I think you'll make a fine captain!  I fully expect to see the Quidditch Cup sitting in this office at the end of term."

Angelina let out a sigh of relief she didn't know she held.  "Oh thank you, Professor."

"What you _are here for, however, is a . . . shall we say . . . __familial concern."_

A rush of panic overcame Angelina.  "What's wrong?  Are Mum and Dad all right?  They haven't been hurt, have they?"

"Miss Johnson, they are fine.  They are not why you are here.  This is about your cousin." 

"My cousin?"

"Yes, didn't you hear Nia's name called at the Sorting?"

Angelina wracked her brain, trying to figure out what she could've been doing to prevent her from knowing her cousin was here . . . ah yes.  "Stupid Fred," she muttered under her breath.  During the Sorting, Fred kept transfiguring her braids, turning them into snakes and other creepy crawlers.  Needless to say, her mind was not on the newly sorted Hogwarts students.  

"Yes, she is here and—why do you look so surprised?"  

"I didn't know Nia had magic in her, Professor.  I thought she was Muggle." 

McGonagall humphed.  "Hardly.  Her mother was in Gryffindor—a fine student, I daresay," McGonagall said proudly.

Angelina frowned.  "But they're Americans." 

The professor nodded.  "Yes, but that's neither here nor there.  Though all children of magical capabilities in Britain get a letter, we also send letters around the world to children with exceptional magical potential.  We recruit only the best."

"Ah."

"Well, that is all, Miss Johnson.  Seeing as you are considerably older and more familiar with the grounds, I charge you with helping your cousin to get acclimated with the school.  Hogwarts can be a bit overwhelming to those new to the wizarding world."

Angelina snorted at that.  "No kidding."

McGonagall lifted an eyebrow in amusement.  "Yes, so, I have a pass here for you to use my classroom while I am not there.  Heed me, Miss Johnson:  if I find hide or hair of _either Weasley twin in that room, you will be searching for two new beaters, understood?"  She waved the pass for emphasis.  _

"Yes."

"Good."  She gave the younger woman the pass.  "Have a good night, Miss Johnson.  I'm expecting great things from you this year."  

Angelina smiled and gathered her belongings.  "Good night to you, too, Professor."


	5. Four

_Four_

Angelina walked into the common room to see a seething Hermione lay in on the twins.

_Good, they've had it coming_, she thought, but couldn't help but wince as the prefect threatened to tell their mum about testing their products on younger students.

_Bet they felt that one._

She walked over to an easy chair and sat down, rubbing her eyes with a weary hand.  Her cousin was here, at Hogwarts.

_I don't even know what house she's in!_ she thought, as she realized she didn't ask Professor McGonagall that all-important question.  _I can always send an owl to her for us to meet.  I don't need to know her house to do that.  _

Angelina looked around the common room but saw no sign of the twins.  She sucked her teeth and scanned the room again.  She spotted a sulking Ron sitting in front of the fire, his books closed in front of him.

"Ron?"

He didn't budge.

Angelina sighed, getting up from her chair to meet the boy.

"Ron!"

He started and turned his head.

"Huh!  Blimey, Angelina, you scared me!"

She gave him an apologetic look.  "Sorry, Ron.  I was wondering if I could use your owl to send a letter to my cousin."

"Sure.  Are you going now, this late?"

Angelina made a reluctant face.  "Guess not," she admitted.  "I'll send it in the morning before the post goes."  

He smiled at her, but she could tell it didn't reach his eyes.

"Are you all right?" she asked, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Why are girls so weird?" he blurted.

Angelina laughed and sat down next to him.  "Are we talking girls in general, or one girl in particular?"

Ron turned a decidedly nice shade of red.  "Um . . ."

"Why don't you just ask her out?  You can ask her to go with you to Hogsmeade."

"I can't do that!  Hermione'll laugh at me!" Ron slapped his hands over his mouth.  "I did _not _just say that," he said, though his hands muffled the words.

Angelina understood him anyway.  "I'm afraid you did.  But don't worry, I won't tell anyone.  My lips are sealed."  She made a zipping motion at her lips.

"Thanks, though I confess, it feels good to finally admit it to someone."  

"I'm sure it does.  Now that you've finally admitted it, what do you plan to do about it?"

Ron shrugged.  "I don't know, but I know I'm _not_ telling _her._"

"Do you want her to like you back?"  

Ron shot her a _no kidding _look.  

"Well then, how do you plan on doing that if you don't tell her?"

"I dunno.  She's right mad at me for poking fun at her spew and always asking for help on homework and stuff.  As it is, she's angry with me because I wouldn't help her with Fred and George just now.  She probably only sees me as a pest," he said forlornly.

Angelina squeezed his shoulder affectionately.  "Well, don't you think she has a right to be a bit put out?  She may think you don't appreciate her."

"That's just _peachy_."

Angelina chuckled.  "But if it's all the same to you, I don't think she'd want you to change—she's your friend, after all.  But one day soon, she'll realize what a special guy you are, Ronald Weasley," she said honestly.  The tips of Ron's ears went red, and Angelina laughed.

"Thanks, Angelina," Ron mumbled.

She squeezed his shoulder again.  "You're welcome.  I'm going upstairs now.  Thanks again for letting me use Pig."

Ron watched as she gathered her books with a look of indecision on his face.  As she made her way to the girls' stairs, he blurted, "One day, Fred will realize what a special girl you are, as well, Angelina."  

She hesitated, and heat crept up her cheeks.  She turned slowly to see a grinning Ron.

Angelina smiled slightly.  "Thanks Ron."  She walked up the stairs, his words tumbling inside her head.

~~~~~

He watched as she absently poured milk into her porridge.

"Uh, Angel?  I think that's enough milk."  

Angelina snapped out of her trance and noticed the porridge threatening to spill over the sides of the bowl.  "Bloody _hell_," she muttered as she pushed the bowl away from her, settling on a piece of toast instead.  

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" Fred asked before he took a gulp of his pumpkin juice.

"Nothing to worry _your_ pretty _big_ head about."

A guffaw rang out.  Fred turned away to smack his twin upside the head.

"What?  It was funny!" George said in defense.

"Just for the record, you have the _same_ _head!_" Angelina reminded him.  George stopped laughing and frowned.  

"Ha!  How you like _them_ apples!" Fred yelled triumphantly and pumped his fist in the air.

"But seriously, Angelina, you've been walking around like you were in a haze.  What's wrong?" Alicia asked.

Angelina shrugged.  "There are just so many things to take in all at once.  First off, we're seventh years, which means we have to figure out what we're doing for the rest of our lives."

"Me and George already know what _we're_ doing.  And people say we're irresponsible," Fred said, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

Angelina rolled her eyes.  "_Anyway_ . . .then the added responsibility of being Quidditch captain, and having an _ogre_ of a DADA professor.  And did I mention it's our last year?"

"Oh 'Lina!  You don't have anything to worry about!  You'll be fine!  You'll pass your N.E.W.T.s with flying colors, win us the Quidditch Cup _again_, and find a great job when you graduate.  I hear the Harpies are looking for new Chasers," Lee Jordan encouraged.

"Thanks, Lee, that really means a lot."

"Yeah, Lee!  _Thanks_," Fred said, glaring at his dread-locked friend.

Lee grinned cheekily.  "Just trying to help."

"You _could_ not help so much," Fred mumbled.

"And _why_ shouldn't he be as helpful as he can?  He's my friend!" Angelina challenged.

Fred muttered something incomprehensible.

"What was that?"

"He's trying to get in your pants!"

Angelina looked appalled and slapped his bicep.  "Fred!" 

"I thought he was trying to get in Katie's pants," George said, his mouth full of porridge.

"_Ew__!  Gross!_" Alicia moaned, hitting her boyfriend's arm.

"George!" Lee exclaimed and glanced at Katie, who was looking pointedly at him.

"He won't," Katie snarled.

Lee sniggered.  "If at first you don't succeed . . ."  He earned  high-fives from the twins while the girls glared at them.  Suddenly a flurry of owls flew into the Great Hall with the morning post, and Fred looked for Errol to see if he or George received packages.  As he searched, he noticed Pig.

"Oi, Ron!  I see Pig with a letter!  Have a secret admirer, Ickle Ronniekins?" he teased.  He saw his youngest brother blush and Hermione frown at that barb, and Fred snickered.  _They have no clue!_

"Huh, then why is he flying to the Slytherin table?" George said.  

The group watched as the excited owl flew to a young looking girl sitting beside Malfoy.  He tried to shoo the owl away, and he received a smack on the head for his efforts.

Fred snorted.  _Maybe she knocked some sense into him_.

The girl took the letter from the owl's leg and read the contents, her eyes growing wide.  Pig flew around her excitedly, and she held out her finger for the tiny owl to land.  She put down the letter and gave Pig a piece of toast. Pig took it happily and seemed to give her a buss on the cheek before flying away.  The Gryffindor group watched as Malfoy tried to read over her shoulder, for which he received yet another slap.

_I think I like this girl,_ Fred thought, then he shook his head.  _Wait a minute!  She's a Slytherin!  I'm not _supposed_ to like her!_  

"I wonder why Pig went over to her?  Anybody know who she is?" George asked the others.  Just as Fred was about to answer, the girl in question looked up and scanned the room before stopping on him.  She smiled but did not wave, only nodding imperceptibly.  He frowned and turned to his head to see Angelina nodding and going back to her meal.  The other Gryffindors looked at each other in confusion, before—

"_She's _your cousin?!" Ron exclaimed.

Fred looked to the Gryffindor Quidditch captain for confirmation.

"Yes.  I didn't know she was in Slytherin, seeing as how I _missed_ the Sorting." 

She looked pointedly at Fred, and he grinned.  "All I did was save you from the pain of watching your kin enter the worst House of the school."  He said it as if he'd done a great charitable service.

"Yeah, well, I'm going to talk to her soon.  I find it very strange that she ended up in that House.  I remember her as being such a sweet girl . . ." 

"Sweet, my arse!  She called us Gryffindor grime!" Ron exclaimed. 

"I'll say!  Slytherins are as sweet as Dungbombs!"  George joked.

The boys laughed.  

"Well, if we're all done passing judgment on a person _you don't even know_," Angelina said, glaring at the twins and Ron as she stood, "I'm going to class early."

They watched the tall seventh year leave.

"Think we've struck a nerve," said Fred, half-jokingly.  He didn't even bother to dodge the slap Alicia gave him, oddly thinking it half-deserved.  

~~~~~

"I can't believe you smacked me _twice_," Draco muttered, rubbing the back of his head.

Nia looked at him, unapologetic.  "Nothing less than you deserve, being nosy."

He watched as she put the letter in her robes.  "Who was it from?  Got a boyfriend _already?_"

"Jealous much?"

"Hardly."

"It's none of your business anyway."

"Just as long as it's not from _Potty_ or _Weasel,_ I don't care.  But then again, Weasel is so hung up on Granger, I doubt it'd be from him," Draco muttered.

"Pot calling the kettle black here; _you're _the one who likes the sister."

Draco chose to ignore that comment.  "So are you going to tell me who the letter's from?"

"Nope."

"Not even me?  Your best chum and mate?"  

"I've only known you for a coupla days!"

Draco looked at bit hurt.  "Oh.  I see how it is."  He went back to his breakfast without another word.

Nia immediately regretted her remark.  "I'm sorry, Draco.  I didn't mean it like that."  She put a hand on his arm, but he shrugged it off.

"Someone's not on his good side anymore," Pansy taunted.

"Like you were _ever_ on his good side," Goyle said, sticking up for Nia.

Nia smiled in thanks at him and made a face at Pansy.  "Draco?" she asked hesitantly.  He continued to ignore her, and her annoyance grew.  "Fine.  I'm leaving.  Find me when you stop acting like a three year old."

Nia left the table and the Great Hall, trying to quell the feelings of regret and loneliness.  _Great.  In a matter of days, I've made and lost a friend.  What a great first week this is turning out to be!_  So consumed in her thoughts, she didn't hear her name being called.

"Nia Aset Roberts!  You better turn around and greet me!"

Nia stopped walking, a slow smile spreading across her face.  "Angelina Mae Johnson!  I don't have to!"  She turned anyway, and the taller girl jogged up and gave her a big hug.

"It's so good to see you, coz!" Angelina squealed.  

Nia welcomed the hug, her earlier feelings being squeezed away.  "You, too.  It's been so long."

Angelina pulled away, looking Nia up and down.  "You haven't grown a bit since I last saw you," she teased.

Nia rolled her eyes.  "Just because you're as tall as a skyscraper doesn't mean everyone else in the family is.  My mother was only five feet."

At the mention of Malika, Angelina's face fell.  She had been close to Nia's mother, and when she died, Angelina felt as though she lost a second mother.  "How's Aunt Jamilah?" she asked.

"Fine.  Do you mind if we walk and talk?  I feel weird just standing here," Nia chuckled.

"Sure!  What's your first class?"

Nia pulled out her schedule.  "Uh . . . Care of Magical Creatures," she announced, then frowned.  "I don't think I like the sound of that."

Angelina laughed and put an arm around Nia's shoulders.  "It's not so bad; actually, it's one of my favorite classes.  Come, I'll walk you there."  They walked and chatted, catching up on the past three years.  They sat on the grassy knoll a few meters away from where Nia's class would meet.

"So why didn't you tell me you were a witch?" Angelina asked, as she bent her knees to rest her arms on them.

Nia reclined, settling her weight on her elbows.  "Why didn't you tell me _you_ were?"

The older girl grinned.  "That's a fair question, I suppose.  My parents told me not to tell you; probably afraid of how the rest of the family would react."

"Why would that matter?"

"The Roberts side of the family is Muggle, you know; that's why I always assumed you were as well."

"I did, too.  Mama never did any magic around me; at least, none that I remember . . ."

"Is Aunt Jamilah a witch, too?"

"Yeah, she actually tutored me on some potions and spells before I got here so I wouldn't be behind."

"That was smart of her."

Nia looked at Angelina curiously.  "When did you find out, Angie?  Weren't your dad's parents Muggles, too?"

Angelina grinned.  "My dad is a Muggle-born wizard."

"Cousin Caleb's a wizard?  I've always wondered how he could pull the quarter from behind my ear," Nia said half-jokingly.

Angelina laughed.  "I remember when you were . . . I don't know . . . three or four, and we came to the States to visit.  When Dad pulled that stunt, your eyes got so wide I thought they would pop out!"

Nia chuckled.  "I remember that trip!  I wouldn't leave you alone for nothin'!"

The Gryffindor snorted.  "Got me in trouble, too.  One day I'll get you for saying I broke that vase."

"I dunno whatcha talkin' 'bout," Nia grinned, her drawl exaggerated.

Angelina laughed, resting her head in her arms.  "I wonder why they wouldn't let me tell you about the wizarding world . . .clearly, they knew your mum was a witch.  McGonagall told me my dad and your mum went to Hogwarts at the same time, though he was in Ravenclaw and a few years ahead of her."  

Nia was about to ask for more information, but the bell for class rang.  "Guess it's time for class," she said.

"Seems that way."

The two stood, brushing off bits of grass from their robes.

"I'm still not used to these robes," Nia smirked.

Angelina laughed, helping her get all of the grass off.  "Do you still want to meet later?"

Nia smiled.  "Definitely."

Angelina smiled as well, picking up her book bag.  "All right then.  If I don't see you before then, have a great first week, okay?"

Nia nodded.  "Thanks, Angie, you too!"  She waved and walked down to her class in a much better mood, thinking her week would not be a total loss.


	6. Five

_Five_

"The Dark Lord wants something; he just won't tell us what."

Dumbledore looked pensive as he listened to Severus's report.  "Do you have any inkling what it could be?"  

Severus shook his head.  "He's been very tight-lipped about it, Headmaster.  Only that insufferable Pettigrew has an idea of what's going on."  

Dumbledore chuckled slightly.  "I'll bet Lucius is tickled pink by that."

Severus offered a wry smile.  "That's one way of putting it."

Dumbledore waved a hand at the empty chair before his desk.  "Sit, my boy, sit."  Severus hesitated a moment before doing just that, taking off his cloak and hanging it on the back of the chair.  "Enough talk of heavy matters.  How is my Little One?  She's been here a week, and I have yet to see her!"

Severus's countenance brightened a little.  "I believe she's adapted well, though she's told me something very troubling."

"Oh?"

"She says that Umbridge, and I quote, 'makes her skin crawl.'  She doesn't like her very much."

"Atta girl!" one of the portraits said.

Dumbledore chuckled.  "Dolores is a plant from the Ministry.  Cornelius is looking for a reason to do away with me," the headmaster said with nonchalance. 

"Apparently Potter is not helping matters.  McGonagall told me Umbridge gave him a week's detention for talking about Voldemort's return during instruction . . . poor woman," he muttered.

"Severus," Dumbledore admonished gently.

"Bygones, Headmaster."

"What else is going on with Nia?  Has she been able to make any friends?  Did she see Angelina?"

"Yes and yes.  She is meeting Angelina tonight in McGonagall's classroom, and, believe it or not, Mr. Malfoy has been quite taken with her."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily.  "She is Malika's child, after all.  Malika had a way of tearing down walls."

"That she did," Severus said absently, his thoughts drifting to her.

_"Bloody Potter," he grumbled, his lean arms resting against the stone railing.  "Bloody Black," he said with even more disgust.  It was as if fifth year repeated itself, although it wasn't nearly as embarrassing as the first time.  They had just completed their N.E.W.T.s and gone down by the lake again, except this time James Potter and Sirius Black thought it would be funny to sic one of Hagrid's creatures on him.  Luckily for Severus, he was able to turn the tables on them.  He found a charm that would make the giant squid fall in love with them.  _

Those two won't be taking a dip in the lake anytime soon_, he thought, though it brought little comfort.  _

_Suddenly two small, but very strong arms encircled his waist from behind, and the smell of lotus blossoms overtook his senses.  He felt the press of lips at his back, and he sighed in contentment, despite the very foul day he'd had.  _

_"Lily told me what happened out there today.  Wanna talk about it?" she asked, her voice a balm to his frayed nerves.  He moved his hands from his sides to interlock with hers at his stomach.  Staring down at their joined hands, he chuckled a bit._

_"What?" she laughed._

_"Your hands remind me of Chocolate Frogs," he teased._

_"Aren't you romantic?" _

_He laughed deeply as he turned to face her, his hands framing her chocolate cheeks.  His black eyes locked with her golden ones.  "You know they're my favorite sweets." His voice was a deep rumble._

_She pouted.  "I thought I was your favorite 'sweet.'"_

_"Well I don't know about that . . . I may have to test that theory."  He captured her mouth with his and heard her moan in response.  He deepened the kiss momentarily before slowly breaking it.  He pulled away a little.  "Malika," he whispered against her lips.  Severus watched her lick her lips innocently, and he stifled a groan._

_"Did I pass?" she asked huskily.  _

_He grinned.  "With flying colors," he assured her.  Malika smiled and rested her head against his strong chest.  "Speaking of tests, how were your O.W.L.s?"_

_"Way easy.  I almost fell asleep."_

_"I've always told you this school doesn't challenge your brilliant mind enough!"_

_Malika pulled back to look in his eyes.  "What happened out there today?" she asked again.  "How did your N.E.W.T.s go?"_

_"N.E.W.T.s were fine," he said.  He dropped a kiss to the top of her head.  _

_"And after that?"_

_"Leka," Severus sighed, breaking from the embrace.  He turned back to the stone railing and leaned against it, looking out into the courtyard._

_Malika stood close to him, looking at his back in worry.  "Look, just answer me this—was it worse than what happened your fifth year?" _

_ He shook his head.  _

_"Good.  Then they'll still be able to have children."  She crossed her arms in front of her._

_He smiled then, turning to face her.  "You'd fight for me then?"  He looked at her with a heated gaze._

_"You know us Gryffindors, always ready to fight a worthy battle."_

_"So I'm a battle, am I now?"  He grinned, sliding one hand around her waist.  Her eyes widened slightly at the contact, and she gulped.  His grin grew broader._

_"Sure," she breathed, her heart racing._

_"Have you won me yet?" His other had gone to her waist.  All Malika could do was shrug.  "What was that?"_

_"I don't know.  Have I?" she asked in a small voice, afraid of what his answer would be.  _

_He kissed her forehead tenderly.  "Yes, my Queen," he whispered, translating her Swahili name.  "You have most certainly won me and my heart."_

"Severus."

The name broke into his thoughts, and he blinked, feeling a cool, calloused hand at his cheeks.  He didn't even know he'd been crying.  "Headmaster," he said brokenly, the tears coming in earnest then.  Severus wrapped his arms around Dumbledore's middle and cried into his abdomen—the stoic and aloof Potions Master gone.  Three years of grief came out then, and the headmaster whispered words of comfort.

"I know you miss her," Dumbledore said gently.  "I remember when I lost my beloved Asenath; I thought my world ended.  But I remembered my daughter and realized that Asenath would never be gone, for she was a part of Eliza."  He felt Severus shake his head.

"It's different for you.  Eliza was your daughter, proof of the love you shared with her mother.  I _have_ no such proof!  How I can look upon Nia, knowing she is not mine?"

Dumbledore pulled away, crouched down and cradled Severus's face in his hands; his blue eyes locking with black ones.  "Blood is only a small, albeit physical, part of what makes a family.  Look at Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley.  They are not of blood relation, but the bond they have makes them as close as brothers.  Molly and her family have adopted Harry as one of their own.  Harry believes them to be his family, and they his.  No lack of blood relation will ever tell them otherwise."

Severus nodded, understanding Dumbledore's point.  "She's mine."

Dumbledore nodded, placing a paternal kiss upon Severus's head.  "She's yours—by law and by love.  Don't ever forget that."

~~~~~~

Peter Pettigrew writhed in pain before him, having just received a bout of the Cruciatus Curse.  "My lord . . . I beg of you . . . _please_ . . ."

He did not relent.  "It is for your own good, Wormtail.  You'll be stronger for it."  

The smaller man groaned and rolled around in a tight ball.  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the curse was lifted.  Pettigrew's body shook with the after effects of it.  

"How do you feel?"

"Like shit, my lord," Pettigrew answered honestly.  

Voldemort cackled, the sound abrasive to Pettigrew's ears.  "You're improving," he said, ironically but honestly.  "Pretty soon it won't even faze you.  You're doing splendidly."

"Thank you, my lord.  I'm glad to hear it."  Pettigrew managed to get in a sitting position, holding his abdomen and his arms close to him in an almost protective measure.  

"Do not worry, Wormtail.  I will not inflict you with it again.  We have to pace it."  

"Of course, my lord."

Voldemort smiled a lipless smile, and Pettigrew had to control a shudder.  Voldemort was truly an ugly . . . being; his quest for power and immortality creating the snake-like monster that arose almost three months ago.

"My allies are building up excellently, Wormtail," the Dark Lord announced, his high, squeaky voice full of glee.  He sat on a stone "throne" in front of the cowering man.  

Pettigrew nodded his congratulations.  "That is wonderful news, my lord."

"The giants have all but agreed, and the Dementors will surely leave their posts at Azkaban.  Soon I will be reunited with my loyal followers, who will be rewarded handsomely," Voldemort vowed.

"As they should be, my lord."

Voldemort suddenly looked frustrated.  "As soon as I get my hands on that prophecy, I'll have all I need to exterminate that pesky Potter."

"I am at your disposal, my lord.  Let me retrieve the prophecy.  I can enter in my Animagus form undetected," Pettigrew suggested.  

Voldemort cackled again.  "And just _how_ will a _rat_ carry it in and out, hmm?"

Pettigrew's face fell at that, realizing he had not fully thought out the logistics of such a plan.  "I—I don't know, my lord."

Voldemort's red eyes flashed in annoyance.  "You fool!  Even if we followed your _brilliant _plan, it wouldn't work. You are supposed to be dead!"  Voldemort sighed tiredly, lulling his head in his hand.  "Neither of us can go.  Someone else will have to do it."

"I was only trying to help," the lackey mumbled.

Voldemort waved his comment away.  "No matter.  We _will_ find a way to get it, Wormtail," Voldemort promised.  "For the sooner we know my fate, the sooner we know yours."


	7. Six

_Six_

_"I've sent my men to look down the Nile.  There are also some searching Meroe and southern Nubia as well.  Do not fret, my Queen, we will find your brother . . . your husband . . ."_

_She started at that, hearing the longing and sadness in his voice._

_"My lord, please . . ." she sighed as she turned to face him.  He was in his human form, which was every bit as impressive and beautiful as his warrior one. __ His sword remained ever ready at his hip, however, reflecting the light of the moon._

_"I know you are loyal and faithful, my Queen.  I am here to help, nothing more."_

_She hugged herself and closed her eyes.  _But what if I_ want _more?_ she thought against her wishes._

_"Yes, my lord, I am faithful to him.  He is my king and my brother.  I love him."_

_He nodded his head in reluctant acceptance as he locked eyes with her._

_"Yes.  You love him.  But can you deny you love me as well?"_

_She turned away again, the passion and love in his gaze overwhelming her.  "I need to find my brother.  I need to find Osiris."_

_"My Queen, surely he is dead by now."_

_"Not if I have anything to do about it."_

_She heard him sigh and imagined he was looking to the heavens for help, a gesture done in irony._

_"My Queen, Set nailed him alive in a coffin and put it in the Nile. That was days ago.  I know he is a god, but even he must die," he said wisely._

_She nodded and walked to the indoor pool, her golden eyes taking in the water lilies and fish swimming in the water._

_"Set has always been horribly jealous of our brother; he's been trying to get the kingdom away from Osiris since we were children."_

_"He also wants you for himself, my Queen, surely you know that."_

_She shuddered, the thought repulsing her.  Set was ugly and foul in every possible way.  She didn't know how Nephthys could deal with him day in and day out._

_"We cannot always have what we want," she said unapologetically._

_"This I know well."_

_She choked back a sob as she heard his pain, for it echoed her own.  "Apedemak . . ."_

_"Isis . . ."  He whirled her around and pulled her into his arms.  Isis went willingly, holding him as close as possible._

_"It's bad enough that he went after Osiris, but I know for a fact he's coming after you as well."_

_"I can take care of myself, my Queen," he chuckled._

_Isis smiled.  "I can take care of myself, as well, but that doesn't mean I don't want you to take all the necessary precautions to stay safe."  She broke away from him, but he kept his arms around her, not wanting to totally let her go._

_"I do not care about that imbecile.  I can handle Set," he said confidently.  Isis shook her head, her braids rubbing against his hands as he caressed her back._

_"Set is more powerful now than ever before.  If he managed to trick Osiris, I cannot imagine what cunning he has at his disposal.  I fear my allies are dwindling before my eyes.  You are my most trusted confidant,__ I couldn't bear it if something happened to you, as__ it did to Osiris," Isis said, her voice growing thick._

_"I will do everything in my power to bring him back to you, my Queen.  I will not fail you."  He moved his hands from her back and grasped hers, bringing them to his lips and kissing them tenderly.  Isis closed her eyes at the emotion that simple action caused before opening them again._

_"I know you will, my lord.  I trust you."  _I love you . . .__

_Apedemak smiled softly, his green eyes sad and tender in understanding.  "I know you do, my Queen.  I know you do."  _

Nia opened her eyes slowly, stretching her arms over her head.  The dream felt so real to her, and she stared at the backs of her hands which still tingled with the sensation of lips being pressed against them.  Nia shook her head, hoping this wasn't one of those dreamsshe'd been having off and on for three years—dreams that turned out to be real.  She flipped over and hugged the cushion, hoping she could find her way back to sleep, but she knew instinctively sleep would not return.

It was a Saturday morning, three weeks after term started, and since it began, her life had been hectic.  She had finally got used to the classes, the moving staircases—even Peeves' pranks.  It was starting to feel like a home away from home.  Of course, she missed her grandmother and Charleston's warm weather, but she wouldn't trade her experiences here for the world.  _That's not true,_ she thought, knowing she would gladly trade any experience she had with Professor Umbridge for something less horrible, like rotting in hell perhaps.  But much to Nia's annoyance and dread, the British Ministry of Magic appointed her High Inquisitor of Hogwarts.  To Nia, all that meant was that Umbridge was a tattletale with power.  

_Overgrown rat,_ she thought, chuckling slightly.

The other experience was hurting Draco's feelings.  He'd been her first friend, and she had to go and put her foot in her mouth.  Luckily she'd made more friends, most notably Pansy Parkinson and Gregory Goyle, in spite of Draco's vow of silence towards her.  Had it not been for them, her house life would be miserable. 

She sat up, noting that her roommates were still sleeping.  Nia had always been an early riser, much to her mother's chagrin.  Nia remembered waking her mother by jumping on the bed and singing _"It's Saturday!  It's Saturday!"_ at the top of her lungs.  This only served to force her mother to tickle her to silence, and the two would fall back to the bed in peals of laughter.  Nia sniffled at the memory, realizing she'd never get to share those moments again.

Sighing, she pulled on her housecoat and put on her slippers to go see if her father was awake.  The common room was empty as she left, a further testament that it was a Saturday morning.  She pulled her housecoat tighter around her, trying to ward off the chill of the cool dungeon halls.  Nia opened the door to the Potions classroom.  It had a calming quality to it, despite the fact that during the week it was full of melting cauldrons, exploding potions, and the occasional mysterious vapor.  She shook her head, wondering how Snape did it day in and day out.  She muttered the password to his office door and entered, going to the shelves of potions on the left wall.  Pulling out her wand, she tapped on three specific flasks and muttered another password.  Nia stepped back, letting the shelves slide away to reveal Snape's private quarters.  She heard voices as she stepped inside; clearly she wasn't the only one who wanted his company so early in the morning.  Crestfallen, she turned, prepared to go back to her dorm room.

"It's all right, Little One.  You can come in," Severus said gently.

She turned back and walked further into the room to see Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall there as well, having a meeting of some sort.  

"Mornin'," Nia mumbled, shuffling inside.  Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily, and he presented his cheek to her, tapping it with a finger.  Nia lost some of her shyness and grinned, walking to the headmaster and kissing his cheek.  "Mornin', Grandpa Albus," she whispered in his ear.

He hugged her tightly.  "Morning, my dear Nia.  Did you sleep well?"  She nodded.

"Good morning, child," McGonagall said kindly.

"Morning, Professor."

The sternness Nia was so used to seeing seemed to melt away at the greeting, and McGonagall offered a smile.

"What am I?  Chopped liver?" Severus asked sardonically.

Nia leaned against Dumbledore's easy chair, inspecting her fingernails.  "I dunno," she said, looking at him through her lashes. "Maybe."  Dumbledore and McGonagall chuckled at that, and Severus growled in his throat.

"Come here, you little hellion!" he ordered, grabbing her hand and pulling her into his lap, kissing her face and tickling her sides.  Nia squealed with laughter, glad to spend some time with her father.

"C'mon, Daddy!  Stop it!" she shrieked, trying to still his hands.  He finally relented, readjusting her so she could sit in his lap more comfortably.  He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she reclined against him, feeling very safe and loved.

"You look so much like Malika, child.  It's uncanny," McGonagall murmured.

Nia gave a small smile.  "Thank you, Professor."

"Are your classes well?" Dumbledore asked, putting a Lemon drop into his mouth.

Nia shrugged.  "They're fine."

"_But_ . . ." Severus drawled out, hearing the unspoken conjunction.

"I miss Grandma . . . and Mommy," she said.

Severus cradled her head in the crook of his neck and kissed the top of it tenderly.

"Your grandmother misses you, too, but you can always owl her," Dumbledore offered.  "And your mother is with you always."

"I know," Nia mumbled.

Severus cleared his throat, wanting to steer the conversation into more pleasant waters.  "What are you doing today?" he asked his daughter.

Nia shrugged again.  "I dunno.  Me and Megan are meeting after breakfast to think of something." 

"Who is Megan?"

"She's a Hufflepuff in my year.  We were partnered together in Herbology."

"Do you have any other friends, my dear?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yeah, but they are all going to Hogsmeade.  I told Pansy and Angelina to get me some Chocolate Frogs," she said with a grin.

"Sneaky girl!  Now you're going to get two cartons of it!" Severus said, tickling her side.  

Nia giggled.  "I'm not in Slytherin for nothin'!" she exclaimed.  The adults laughed.

"Well, Miss Slytherin, since you have to meet your friend, I suggest you get a move on.  Breakfast will start soon," Severus said, kissing her forehead.

"'Kay."  Nia hopped down from his lap and stole a Lemon drop from the table.  Dumbledore winked at her, and she grinned.  "Bye."  She waved and left the quarters.  

"Goodbye, Little One," Severus called.

She went back into the room, showered, and changed into jeans and a long-sleeved top, grateful they didn't have to wear uniforms on the weekends.  Walking back into the common room, she made to open her Lemon drop but bumped into someone in the process.

"Dangit!" she muttered.  She bent to pick it up, quickly snatching her hand away as a large foot stepped on it.

"You should watch where you're going, Roberts."

Nia suppressed a shudder, standing up and glaring at the boy.  Not bothering to comment, she tried to walk around his left, but he grabbed her right bicep—hard.

"Why don't you go back to your Mudblood life?  You don't belong here."

Nia forced herself not to reel back from the hostility in his voice, determined not to let it get to her.

"Let me go, Crabbe," she said lowly.

"You know what?  Three's something I don't get about you.  You're all of a sudden a second year, but you weren't here last year.  Snape is actually _nice_ to you, and he's rarely nice to anyone, except for people with money like Draco.  So either you're filthy rich, which I _doubt, seeing the way you dress, or there's something else.  I personally think there's more to you than meets the eye, and I will find out what it is," Crabbe promised.  He squeezed her arm against tightly before jerking her away.  Nia began to quickly walk away, not daring to rub her arm to give Crabbe the satisfaction of knowing he'd hurt her._

"Do that again, Crabbe, and I'll be forced to give you a detention."

Nia's steps faltered a bit at the threat, but she kept walking.  She'd left the room before she heard Crabbe's reply, but she really didn't care what the boy said.  All she knew was that her arm was probably bruised, as she placed an hand on her arm to inspect it.  _Draco stood up for me,_ she thought, her pace slowing again.  As her mind wrapped around that revelation, she didn't hear the fast-approaching footsteps until it was too late.  She quickened her pace again, half-fearing Crabbe was coming to attack her again for getting him into trouble.  A hand grabbed her left arm.

"No!" she yelled, whirling around and placing a well-placed punch into his abdomen with her injured one.  She gasped at the pain shooting through her arm, and he grunted, slumping to the floor.  Though his body was doubled over in pain, Nia knew she made a mistake when she saw a head of platinum blonde hair instead of muddy brown.  Draco crawled to the wall, resting his back against it.

"Dangit!" she exclaimed again, crouching down in front of him.

"_Bloody hell_, Little One!  Where did you learn to throw a punch like that?"

Nia chuckled in spite of herself.  "My cousin Caleb.  He said a lady should learn how to protect herself.  My grandmother was so mad at him for doing that though.  I got into trouble in fifth grade for beating up this boy trying to put mud down my skirt.  The idiot," she said.

"Well, he bloody taught you well!" he ground out, cradling his abdomen.

She looked at him shyly.  "Sorry about punching you." she mumbled.

Draco smirked, despite the pain.  "Nothing less than I deserve, I daresay."

Nia looked confused. "How d'you mean?"

Draco patted the space next to him, and Nia sat down, waiting for his response.  "I've been treating you rotten, and I'm sorry for it."

Nia looked shocked.  "_What?_  Draco Malfoy _apologizing?  There are pigs flying somewhere . . ." she muttered._

"Very funny, Little One," he said sarcastically, but he grew serious.  "When you reminded me _ we'd only known each other for a few days, it both shocked and frightened me because . . .well . . . it felt like we'd known each other forever.  It never occurred to me that you were American, or you were a second year, or even that you were raised Muggle.  I just knew that you were, really, my very first friend that _I'd _chosen—not of my father's choosing or of people choosing me because of the Malfoy money."  He sighed then, resting his head against the stone wall.  Draco stared at a candle fixture on the opposite wall and continued to talk._

"Very few people take the time to know me beyond a superficial level, but you did, Nia—even through my faults.  The way I was leaning on you for support really unnerved me, and when you said what you did, it brought it all home for me.  I know you didn't say it out of malice, but I hid behind it, trying to blame you for making me feel the way I did.  I shouldn't have, and I apologize for it."

Nia grabbed his hand and squeezed it affectionately.  "I know what you mean 'cause I feel the same way," she admitted.  "I didn't like you being mad at me, and when you stopped speaking to me, I felt so alone.  If it weren't for Pansy and Goyle, I would've been so miserable."

Draco wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  "Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore.  I'm here, and I don't plan on leaving again."  He stood then, offering her a hand to help her up.  "Besides, I _know not to get on your bad side.  You throw one hell of a punch!" he teased, moving his hands to squeeze her muscles.  Nia winced and let out a hiss as his hands reached her injured bicep.  _

Draco's eyes hardened.  "He hurt you."  The statement was barely heard, but the anger was apparent.  He turned to go back to the common room. 

"Just let it go, Draco.  I'll live," she said, grabbing his arm and turning him back towards her.  She linked her arm through his and walked them to the Great Hall.

"Nia . . ."

She sucked her teeth.  "Yes!  It hurt where he grabbed me, but it's fine now!" she insisted.

He sighed.  "You'll tell me if he pulls another stunt like that again, won't you?"  Nia nodded her assent.  Draco looked unconvinced, but he let it drop.  

They entered the hall and sat at their table, helping themselves to breakfast.

"So," Draco began, changing the subject, "what do you want me to get you from Hogsmeade, then?"

She grinned.  "Lemon drops."


	8. Seven

_Seven_

"Pretty soon _breathing_ will be against the rules," Nia muttered under her breath.  Draco sniggered beside her as they read the bulletin board in the common room.  There was a new Educational Decree, declaring no student groups could meet without the High Inquisitor's approval.  

"Guess I'll have to ask her to let the Quidditch team reform, then," he muttered while they walked to breakfast.

"But you're not the captain," Nia said.

He shrugged.  "She likes me, or I should say my father."

"Oh."

"I'll bet Potty will _love_ this new decree!"

Professor Umbridge, who was none other than the most hated professor at Hogwarts, was creating quite a stir.  _"I feel right empty without my title,"_ Snape had joked to her during one of their talks.  Even _Draco_ didn't like her, and that was saying much.  The only reason why he tolerated her was because she let him slide with so much—particularly with Harry Potter and his friends.

After the incident in the hallway during the first week of classes, Nia quickly realized the Houses took their rivarlies _very seriously—none more so than Gryffindor and Slytherin.  While the whole story behind the animosity escaped her, she realized it was the lifeblood of many students on either side.  As it was, she was best friends with one of biggest instigators and targets of the rivalry, so she was privy to many pranks.  "_It's the Slytherin thing to do,"_ Draco replied when she asked him about it one night but said nothing more about it afterwards.  But lately she noticed one Gryffindor in particular seemed safe from his barbs—and he was looking at her right then.  _

"You keep staring at her like that, and you'll burn a hole clear through her," Nia teased as they sat down at their table.

Draco started at her voice, then scowled.  "I don't know what you're talking about," he denied lamely, all the while taking what he thought were surreptitious glances at the girl in question.

"_Riight_.  And I'm the Pope," she said, rolling her eyes.

"The _who_?"

"Never mind."  She grabbed four pieces of bacon and some toast, going a little heavy on the butter.

"You see, _that's_ why you've got your gut now!"

"I _told_ you, it's _baby fat!" Nia insisted through clenched teeth, poking him in the side._

He snickered as he watched her bite into her toast unapologetically.  "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Little One," he said as he served himself some porridge.

"I'm sure I know what helps _you sleep at night, or should I say __who."  She looked pointedly at the Gryffindor table._

"She would be in my archrival's house," he muttered in frustration.  

"Need I remind you _I'm_ half Gryffindor?"

"I'd be much obliged if you didn't."

She sighed heavily.  "I know there's this rivalry business and all that, but did Umbridge pass another Educational Decree banning inter-house dating that I don't know about?"

Draco drank some of his pumpkin juice before answering.  "No, I've already told you why it's never going to work.  Gryffindors and Slytherins don't date each other—let alone the sisters of an archenemies."  

"Humph, sounds like a p2 to me."

"Pardon?"

"A personal problem."

Draco looked appalled.  "Gee, that's nice!  What a way to show how much you care!"

Nia rolled her eyes and stood quickly, putting on her book bag and grabbing her last piece of bacon.  "As much as I'd love to stay and hear your pathetic excuses as to _why_ you can't just ask the girl out, I have to go to the library.  Anyway, you ain't in Slytherin for nothin'; you'll find a loophole to this."  She pointed her chin towards the Gryffindor table.  "Oh and uh, don't look now, but your girl's looking at you.  If I were you, I'd catch her before she left."  She patted his cheek and left a blushing Draco in her wake.  

"Well I'll be a monkey's uncle—is Ferret Boy _blushing?_"

Ginny's fork was in mid-route to her mouth when she stopped and stared at the Slytherin in question.  To Ginny, he looked downright charming; that is, until he looked up and locked eyes with her.  That innocent blush was quickly replaced with a smirk as he raised an eyebrow, winking at her before returning to his meal.  Ginny felt her cheeks go red.

"Oy, Gin, you plan on eating that this century?" George teased, looking pointedly at the now-cold spoonful of porridge, then Harry sitting directly across from her.  Her brothers snickered as Hermione nudged Ron in the side to get him to stop.  Fred and George thought she still had a crush on the Boy Who Lived, but Ron and Harry knew otherwise.  

"Lucky for her, we only have a few more years left of it, eh?" Fred joined in, earning more laughs from the group.

"Bugger off, Fred," Ginny mumbled, looking apologetically at Harry who was growing increasingly annoyed at being the subject of their taunts. 

"Ignore my prat brothers," Ginny said to Harry as she shot a glare at the boys which could rival Molly Weasley's.

"What do you think I've been _trying_ to do since we _got_ here?"  He smirked good-naturedly, earning a pseudo-affronted look from Fred.

"Huh!  I resent that!"  

Ginny rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling at her brother's antics.  No matter how annoying they could be, she still loved them.  The conversation seemed to broke into smaller ones, and after a moment, she looked across the hall again—right into a pair of stormy gray eyes.  His trademark smirk was on full-fledged, and he licked his lips suggestively and grinned.  She shook her head, convinced she was imagining things.  

"Does a certain Boy Who Lived have our wee Gin all hot and bothered?" George taunted.  The boys around them guffawed.

She may have loved them, but they were working her last nerve.  "That's _IT!_" she all but screeched, though not loudly enough to draw attention from the whole Hall.  However, she did manage to capture the stares of the rest of the Gryffindor table.  Ginny quickly gathered her things and stormed out, unaware that Hermione and Angelina had left with her.

"Sometimes I wonder, Gin, how you managed to live with those gits for fourteen years and still come out sane," Angelina said in a mixture of awe and sarcasm.

"My own room."  Ginny smirked.

"So where are you going until breakfast is over?  We still have a few more minutes," Hermione asked as they walked down the hall.

Ginny shrugged.  "The library, I reckon; it's close to the Transfiguration classroom at any rate."  

"Okay, we'll go back, and let them know you're okay and to expect a nasty hex sometime in the near future," Hermione said with a conspiratorial wink.

Ginny grinned and nodded.  "Yeah, _that'll_ put the fear of God in them."

"Or we could always say you owled your mum," Angelina offered.

"Now we wouldn't want to give them a heart attack, would we?"  Hermione asked in mock seriousness.  The three girls looked at each other for a moment.

"_Naah_!" they laughed.  Ginny said goodbye as they went to their respective locations, resuming her walk to the library.  

"Where are you off to, Little Weasel?"

Ginny halted her steps, caught off guard by the confident drawl that seemingly sounded from nowhere.  

"What do you want, Ferret?" she asked, her stance firm.

Draco came out of the shadows and stood behind her.  She shivered as she felt his heat against her back but did not turn to look at him.

"I want a lot of things: money . . . power . . . the House Cup . . . _you . . ._" he trailed off.  "Not necessarily in that order, either, mind you."  

Ginny gulped, then steeled her voice.  "Well, three out of four isn't bad, don't you think?" she said saucily.  She began to walk off, but his arm snaked around her waist, completely trapping her to him.  Ginny felt his breath at her ear, and she shivered again.

"You're right," he murmured, his voice deep and seductive.  "I can live without the House Cup."  His nose nuzzled her ear, then he left. 

Ginny's knees quaked, and she half-feared she'd fall to the floor in a heap of hormones.  

_Dear Merlin, he didn't do that,_ Ginny tried to reassure herself vainly.

She managed to get herself to the wall, resting her back to it as she sank to the floor.  It was just all too much—Draco Malfoy practically telling her he'd wanted her; for what, she didn't know.  

And she didn't much care, either.  

She put her head on her raised knees and shivered again as the realization hit her, illicit thoughts running through her head.  

"Are you all right?"

Ginny jumped, startled by the unexpected voice, and jerked her head up.  Ginny recognized her as the girl with Draco during their earlier altercation.

"Wha…?  Oh yeah, I'm bloody _peachy_," Ginny muttered.

The girl looked at her, unconvinced.  "Do you need to go to the hospital wing?"

Ginny looked at her suspiciously.  "What do you care?  You're a Slytherin, and Malfoy's friend, no less."

"Look, I'm just trying to help.  You don't have to bite my head off," she grumbled, prepared to continue walking.  

Ginny groaned.  "Wait a minute.  I'm sorry.  It's just your friend pulled a stunt a moment ago that I did not appreciate," she admitted, resting her head against the wall.

The Slytherin turned back to her with a grin.  "Oh, _really_.  Do tell."  She sat down next to Ginny and made herself comfortable.

"Did you have something to do with that?"

"I don't know how I could've, seeing as I just came from the library," she said.  "All I said was for him to catch you before you left."

"Did he ever."  

The girl chuckled.  "I'm Nia, by the way," she introduced herself, holding out her hand 

Ginny looked at her hand, then at Nia, before grinning and accepting it.  "Ginny," she said.  "I feel special.  I get the first name."

Nia laughed outright.  "You remember that?"

"Your assessment was pretty accurate," Ginny said.  "But I think you won't invest so much in this rivalry thing."

"Really now.  How so?"

"That time when we first saw each other, and how you stood up for yourself, I knew you were someone who wouldn't be swayed unless you wanted to be.  You actually have a mind of your own, not someone who easily buys into something just because it's for sale."  

"You gathered all of that from one little meeting?  We didn't even talk to each other," Nia said skeptically.

Ginny shrugged.  "Just a hunch.  It's as if you came at the right time or something.  Ever since you came, seems like Malfoy's become a different person.  While he's still a prat, it's as though he's been grounded, has direction or something.  You're good for him."

Nia noticed Ginny's eyes get a faraway look, and she smiled a bit.  "You like him, don't you?"  Ginny could only blink at her forwardness.  "You're afraid of liking him?"

"Maybe a little.  I'm not supposed to feel that way about him.  He's a Slytherin and a Malfoy—two very big no no's where I come from."

"This goes beyond a simple school rivalry, doesn't it?"

"Way beyond.  I don't know what to do."  

"I'm sure it'll all work out in the end," Nia said reassuringly.  The bell for the end of breakfast rang, letting them know they had a few minutes to get to class.  They stood and gathered their belongings.

"Well, it was nice chatting with you.  Good luck with everything," Nia said, preparing to leave.

"Wait!  Can we meet again?" Ginny asked impulsively.  

Nia hesitated, then nodded.  "Why not?  How about tonight after dinner?  I've got about an hour before I have to be in my House."

"Oh yeah, that's right.  I forgot second years had an earlier curfew."  They stood there for a moment, watching the hallway fill with students.

"I guess I'll see you after dinner then," Nia said.  

"Definitely."

"Have a good day, then," Nia called as she walked to her class.

Ginny turned and walked in the other direction.  This school year was about to get more interesting.  


	9. Eight

_Eight_

"Ronald Alan Weasley!  You get back here this instant!"

Ron cringed at the sound of his name, his ears turning red.  How _dare _she call him out like that in the middle of the common room?—only his mother _ever_ called him by his full name!  First, his sister started a row with him, eventually storming out, and now this.  Everyone else immediately quieted again, prepared to see one of the now-famous rows of Hermione and Ron.

"Bloody _hell,_ woman!  What are you going on about?" he asked, turning from the portrait door.

"Don't you _dare_ follow Ginny!  It's none of _your_ business where she's going or who she's going to see!" she snarled.

Ron was indignant.  "She's _my_ bloody sister!  If it isn't _anyone's_ business, it's _not yours!_  _I_ bloody well have the right to know where she's going!"

"Here, here!" George piped up from his position on the couch.  Hermione glared at him.

"She'd better not be going to see that bloke Corner . . ." Ron muttered, ready to walk out again.  A hand grabbed his arm and stayed him.

"Leave. Her. _Alone._"

Ron whirled around, and his breath hitched.  Her brown eyes were blazing, and her bushy hair was wild around her face.  Her cheeks were rosy from anger, and she was tight-lipped in frustration.

Ron had never seen such a beautiful sight.  

"I. Don't. _Have to!_" he snarled back, trying not to let her beauty distract him.

Hermione huffed, throwing up her hands before crossing them before her.  "She's _fourteen years old,_ Ron!  She doesn't need you following her around!  Just let her be!"

"She's been going off like this for the past week to Merlin-Knows-Where!  I have a right to be concerned!" Ron bellowed.

Hermione put her hands on her hips, ready for another rejoinder.

"Ron, you should _really_ pull the stick out of your girlfriend's arse," Fred said.  Both Ron and Hermione blushed at his comment.

"She's not my girlfriend," Ron mumbled.

"You leave them alone!  This does not concern you!" Angelina yelled at Fred from across the room.

"Bloody hell it doesn't!  She's my sister, as well, and I back Ron one hundred percent!"  

"Thanks, mate," Ron said, having controlled his blush.

"You didn't even _know_ about Michael Corner until I _told_ you about him, and _now_ you want to act like you care?" Hermione asked.  "You have some nerve."  

Ron was insulted by that comment but couldn't deny what she'd said.  "Why do you care?  She's not even your _sister!_"

"That may be, but I act more like her sibling than you do!" Hermione yelled.

Now, Ron was hurt.  He glared at her, walking close until he bent down and they were nose to nose.  "You know, ever since you got that prefect's badge, you've been nothing but a nag!  You keep telling people what to do; you're even worse than when we were in first year!" he exclaimed.  Hermione's eyes widened at that, filling with tears, but Ron was too far to gone care.  "So why don't you do me and mine a favor—_stay out of it!_"

Hermione jerked back as though she'd been slapped.  She bit her lip and ran out of the common room through the portrait.  The entire room was dead silent for a moment, staring at the redheaded prefect in shock.  Ron looked around the room in anger.

"WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?!  SHOW'S OVER!"

The room quickly went back to normal, some students still stealing glances his way.

"Bang up job, Ron; now you've gone and made her cry," George said, shaking his head in disappointment.

Ron looked scandalized.  "You were agreeing with me!"

"That didn't mean you had to go and make her cry.  You've got some serious damage control ahead of you," said Fred, looking at the portrait hole where Hermione fled.  He spotted Angelina walking out of it.  "Oi, Angel!  Where are you going?"

"_I_ don't have to tell you.  _I'm_ not your sister," she said venomously without turning.  

Fred immediately turned to Ron and glared at him.

"I didn't do anything!" Ron said in defense.

"You got me in trouble with Angel, stickin' up for you," Fred growled.

"Seems to me like _both_ of you have damage control to do," George said cheekily.

"Shut it!" Fred and Ron yelled.

"Big brother, little brother, let me give you some advice," George said, curling a finger at Ron.  Ron reluctantly went to him and sat on the other side of George on the couch; their heads bent together, almost touching.  "Here's what you should do."  George gave a pregnant pause, leaving the brothers in suspense.

"C'mon!  Out with it!"

"Yeah, George!  We don't have all day!"

George grinned.  "I don't think you boys are up to the challenge.  You have to be men." 

George determined.  

Ron and Fred looked at each other, aghast.

"We're men!" Fred said, puffing out his chest.

Ron and George snickered.

"Right you are, Fred, a fine specimen, I think," George agreed.

"Good show," said Fred.

"Spit it _out, _George!" Ron groaned.

"Sorry, Ron," George apologized.  "Anyway, what you two should do is . . . ." He dragged it out, leaving Fred and Ron at the edge of their seats.

"What?  _What?_"

"Apologize."

Ron and Fred looked at George, horrified.  

"You're off your rocker," Ron said finally, plopping his back against the couch.

"Way off.  I'd sooner kiss Malfoy."

"Either way, you'd get some action, though I daresay Angelina's much more the looker."  

Fred slapped his brother in the back of his head.

"She started it," Ron pouted, referring to Hermione.

"And you can end it.  Be a man, Ron.  It's the only way to get back into her good graces," George warned.

"I'll think about it."

"You do that," George said as he stood.  "Now if you two don't mind, I'm off on a date, you know, to 'get into' Alicia's _good graces_."  George winked, and the brothers couldn't help but smirk at the double entendre.  "Ta-ta."

"Cheeky bastard," Ron muttered as George left.

"More like lucky bastard," Fred amended.  They laughed, then immediately sobered.

"I reckon he's right," Ron finally admitted, crossing his arms in front of him.

"I reckon he is," said Fred, "but then again, he's always been the voice of reason between us two."

Ron snorted.  "Like _that's_ saying much!"

Fred ruffled Ron's hair, much to Ron's displeasure.  "Luckily for you, you don't have to endure Quidditch practice with a best mate who's the captain and mad at you."

"But my best mate is the cleverest witch in the class and helps me pass my assignments."  The two were quiet for a moment.  "We're pathetic," Ron announced with a bit of a chuckle.

"Speak for yourself, Ronniekins," Fred said, but a grin formed on his face anyway.  

"Have you admitted it to yourself yet?" Ron asked.

"What?"

"That you like Angelina?"

Fred raised his eyebrows at him.  "At least I _asked_ my crush to the Yule Ball last year and didn't have to sulk about her being with someone else!"

Ron's ears went a lovely shade of red.  "Lot o' good it did you, seeing as you two are right back at square one," Ron pointed out.

Fred didn't have a retort for that, scowling as he reclined against the back of the couch.  "Well, all I know is I have to fix this before practice tomorrow, or she'll make it hell," Fred finally said.

Ron shuddered at the thought.  "Please do; I don't think I can take an angry Angelina throwing Quaffles at me.  You might have to look for another Keeper!" Ron half-joked.

Fred laughed and stood, bringing Ron with him as he wrapped his arm around Ron's shoulder in a brotherly gesture.  "Come, Ronniekins, we've got some apologizing to do!"

"Hermione!  Hermione, wait up!"

Hermione slowed her pace as she heard her name called, turning back to see Angelina chase after her.  The older girl slowed her canter and fell in step next to the fifth year, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"They are gits," Angelina said without preamble.

Hermione smirked in spite of herself.  "I know."

"Doesn't mean we don't like them, does it?"

Hermione's face crumpled again, her eyes filling with tears.  "Why does he make me feel this way?"

"Like a bunch of hippogriffs were let loose in your stomach?" Angelina suggested.  Hermione gave a half-smile and nodded.  "Because he bloody can.  What bothers you more—that he does, or that he doesn't know he does?"  Hermione's steps faltered at that, having realized she never thought of the distinction before then.  Angelina smiled kindly at her.  "You don't have to answer that.  Just something to think about, hmm?"  They walked in silence for a few minutes, not really knowing where they were going.  "So where were you off to?"

Hermione shrugged.  "The library, I guess.  I tend to go there whenever I'm upset.  All I need is a book, and that generally calms me down."

Angelina frowned.  "Don't you have any girlfriends to talk to?  You don't talk to Ginny?"

"Yeah, but I feel weird discussing her brother with her, you know?" Hermione said, making a face.

Angelina laughed a bit, then looked serious, almost unsure.  "I know we're not all that close, but if you ever want to talk to me, I'm here," Angelina offered.

Hermione smiled.  "I'd like that."

Angelina grinned, squeezing her shoulders.  They rounded the corner and entered the library, seeing it relatively empty—it was a Friday night, after all.  They weaved their way through the tables, looking for a table where they wouldn't be interrupted.

"Hermione!  Angelina?  What are you doing here?"

The two women turned towards the stage whisper and spotted Ginny with a younger girl Hermione vaguely remembered.

"Is this the person you've been meeting all this time?" Angelina asked on a laugh as she sat down next to the younger girl.  Ginny nodded, and they laughed, while Hermione felt like the odd woman out—as usual.

"Look, I'm going to go ahead and—"

"Sit right in that chair," Ginny finished for her, knowing Hermione was about to flee.  Hermione looked shy at Ginny's apt reading of her mood and sat down.

"You don't mind?" Hermione asked, looking at the Slytherin.

"Not at all.  You must be Hermione.  I'm Nia."  She held out her hand.

It was then Hermione recognized her, and she gave a smirk.  "Oh yeah, _Roberts,_ if I remember correctly," she said as she shook Nia's hand.

Nia grinned.  "That'd be me."

"How goes it, coz?" Angelina asked, resting her elbows on the table.

"Just here listening to Gin tear in on her brother."

Hermione's face fell, and Ginny noticed.  "Oh Merlin, what did my prat of a brother do _now_?"

Hermione sighed wearily.  "He said, in no uncertain terms, to stay out of his life."  She felt tears start up in her eyes again.

"It wasn't quite that harsh, but it was rather nasty all the same," Angelina reiterated.

The redhead's ire was not assuaged.  "Stupid _git!_"  She made to get up, but Nia pulled her back down.

"Where do you think you're going?  You can't just go barging in there, demanding your brother's head," Nia said wisely.

"Why the hell not!?"

Angelina and Nia laughed; even Hermione squeaked out a smile.

"Good question," Hermione muttered.

Ginny grinned.  "I've always told you my brother was a prat, but you had to go and fall in love with him." 

Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock.  "I am _not—_"

"Yes, you are," Ginny said, mightily pleased with herself.  The cousins snickered, watching the interaction between the two friends.  Ginny heard and rounded on Angelina.  "I don't know _what _you're laughing about; you're in love with Fred!"

Angelina stopped laughing then, and Hermione chuckled.

"I gather it is not as funny when the joke's on _you_ now is it?" Hermione said cheekily.  

Angelina made a face at her, though tempered it with a smirk.

"These Weasleys must be workin' with some special sauce!" Nia teased.

"Blech, these are my _brothers_ we're talking about!"

"Nope, you too, considering a certain Slytherin Seeker wants to 'catch you' . . .and _you_ want to be caught."

The other girls' looks of intrigue turned into shock.

"_Malfoy!_" Hermione hissed.  "You fancy _Malfoy?_"

"Bugger, Hermione!  Keep your voice down!" Ginny admonished.

Angelina just grinned.  "Well, he's definitely a sexy one . . . if he was a few years older, I would be his 'Snitch' to seek!"  

The three younger girls looked at her, wide-eyed.

"I can't believe you just said that!  Fred would go nutters if he heard you say such things!" Ginny said, scandalized.  

"Good thing he's not here then, isn't it?  As it is, he has a rather nasty hex awaiting him."

"Besides, I think he'd be more surprised at you, seeing as _you're_ his sister, Ginny," Hermione said scathingly.

"Not by choice, mind you."

Nia looked at the three Gryffindors with great interest. "So what do y'all plan to do about it?"

They looked at each other, then Ginny grinned.

"Make them sweat."  


	10. Nine

_Nine_

Ron was sweating like mad, despite the chill of the November air.  Here they were, in the changing rooms awaiting the first game of the Quidditch season, and Angelina was going over the particulars.  After two weeks of strenuous practices and taunts and barbs from the Slytherin Quidditch team, Ron was fit to be tied.  Harry saw Ron's nervousness and hoped he didn't throw up.

"Ron!  Are you listening to me?" Angelina snapped.

Ron jumped, shaking his head to clear his mind.  "Uh . . ."

"You better be more alert on the pitch than you are here, Weasley, or Slytherin will run you through the wringer," the Gryffindor captain warned.

Ron gulped.

"Don't worry, mate; you'll be fine," Harry said reassuringly.

Ron just grimaced, his words of little comfort.

"All right, let's get ready to kick some Slytherin arse!" Angelina shouted.  The team cheered, Ron only managing a whimper.

"Merlin help me," Harry heard Ron whisper.  They picked up their brooms and walked onto the pitch.  Harry watched as Montague, the captain of the Slytherin team, tried to crush Angelina's fingers.  She didn't so much as flinch.  Harry grinned with a newfound respect for the captain.  He shot one last reassuring look at Ron before the whistle blew, and he shot up in the air like lightning.

The game was very foul; between the singing of that infernal "Weasley is our King" by the Slytherins and Ron's abysmal keeping of the hoops, Harry wondered briefly if they would make it through this game with a win.  He kept his eye upon Malfoy, just in case he spotted the elusive Golden Snitch.  He hadn't yet.

_This is getting tedious,_ he thought, letting his eyes drift from his search.  He looked to see how Ron was progressing.  Harry winced as a Quaffle sailed through the left hoop, just out of Ron's grasp. 

"Hang in there, mate," he whispered, hoping the wind would carry it to Ron's ears.  Not wanting to see another Quaffle go through the hoops, Harry moved his eyes to the stands.  Hermione gripped tightly onto Ginny's arm as she watched Ron, and Ginny grimaced in pain.  He bit back a chuckle at that.  Hermione was so obvious it was almost pathetic.  But then he noticed Ginny's eyes were not on Ron as Hermione's were, but rather on Malfoy.  Harry frowned in confusion; they'd have a talk about that later.  Moving his eyes away from the Gryffindor stands, he looked to Ravenclaw, and saw Luna's ridiculous lion hat.  When it roared, he couldn't help but feel heartened by the sound and started to look for the Snitch again with new resolve.  Harry would not let Ron's less-than-stellar keeping get him down.  

He finally spotted it down near Slytherins' hoops, and he took off like a bat out of hell, Malfoy in hot pursuit.  After a bit of cat-and-mouse, Harry caught the struggling Snitch near the base of the Slytherin hoops.  Malfoy's fingers scratched the back of his in vain.  Harry brought his Firebolt up from the ground, scanning the stands while flying to the Gryffindor side.  As he made his way to his housemates, his eyes locked on a pair of golden ones he hadn't seen in months.  She was staring at him intently, inclining her head as if to offer congratulations.  For some reason, the gesture made him even more ecstatic, and Harry pumped his fist into the air, only to feel something hard ram into the small of his back.

"_Oof!_" he grunted, falling off his broom.  Luckily it was a short distance to the ground.  He rolled onto his back in a daze.

"Are you all right?" he heard, barely recognizing the voice as Angelina's.

"'Course I am," he said, allowing her to help him up.  

"It was that thug, Crabbe.  He whacked the Bludger at the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch—but we won, Harry, we won!" Angelina reassured him.  It didn't help the fire that was blazing at his back, but his pride was at least assuaged.

"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?  I've never seen a worse Keeper . . . but then he was _born in a bin . . ._ did you like my lyrics, Potter?" he heard Malfoy sneer.  Harry ignored him, determined not to let Malfoy's jealousy ruin their win. As he went to shake the twins' hands, Malfoy moved on to Mr. Weasley; they stiffened.  Fred inched closer to Malfoy, ready to put him through the ground if necessary.

"Leave it," Angelina said, holding his arm to prevent him from moving in on the Slytherin Seeker.  "Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped up litte—"  

Harry would've obliged to Angelina's request, also.

Until the Malfoy started talking about Mrs. Weasley and his mother.

Harry didn't even think as he attacked Malfoy with all he had, determined to leave Malfoy a sodding bloody mess.  He was not aware he'd been fighting until he was hit with the Impediment Jinx.  Harry realized George had been fighting, too, as his swollen lip provided evidence.  Neither one of them said anything as Madame Hooch ordered them to McGonagall's office.  Throughout McGonagall's tirade and Umbridge's punishment of a lifetime ban, Harry remained stoic, only answering when forced.  They walked out of McGonagall's office without a word, the full force of what had happened not yet hitting them.

"I'm going for a walk," Harry mumbled, his appetite suddenly gone and, with it, the desire for dinner.  He didn't want to go the common room just yet, either.  He walked off, dejected, not bothering to wait for George's response.  Fifth year had officially been shot to hell.

~~~~~

"I have _absolutely_ no sympathy for you," Nia said as she rubbed the potion onto Draco's nose.  

She tended to his wounds in Snape's private quarters.  Draco refused to go to the hospital wing.  He jumped up and hissed in pain, almost catching Nia's chin in the process.  

"Watch it!" she snapped.

He glared at her.  "Shite!  Bloody hell, Little One, that stings!" 

Nia rolled her eyes in apathy.

"Language, Mr. Malfoy.  Virgin ears . . ." Snape said, looking pointedly at Nia with a hint of amusement.  

She cut her eyes at Snape before turning her attention to Draco again.  "Don't really much care if it stings.  How _dare _you talk about his mother that way!?" Nia chastised, as she moved from his nose to the cuts on his arms.  Draco hissed again, but less loudly.

"He had it coming," Draco mumbled.

Nia sucked her teeth.  "Why?  Because he beat you to the Snitch fair and square?"  

Draco jerked as if he'd been hit.

Snape coughed to cover a chuckle.

"What, are you taking _his _side?  I thought you were my friend," Draco accused.

Nia looked angrily into his eyes.  "I _am_ your friend, and as such, I am entitled to tell you when I think you're being a punk," she explained coldly.  "Draco, you're being a punk."

Snape laughed out loud, and the two students towards the older man in shock.  He simply shrugged.  "Never thought I'd see the day when a Malfoy would be put in his place."

Draco scowled.  "I don't appreciate your 'humor,' Professor."

 "You appreciate it when it's directed at Potter and his friends," Snape replied, arching an elegant eyebrow in his direction.

"Exactly."

"You acted like a child, and you got beat like ya stole somethin'," Nia continued.  "You got nothin' more than you deserved."

Draco was nonplussed.  "I _deserved_ this?"

Nia snorted.  "You better be glad it was only Potter and that other boy, because had you talked about _my_ mother, I wouldn't've been so nice," Nia promised.

Draco absently rubbed his stomach, remembering the punch she threw a few weeks back.  He didn't doubt her threat for one moment.

"I wouldn't take that threat too lightly, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said.  "I fear she's liable to carry it out."

"No kidding," said Draco, sliding off the stool as Nia finished with him.  The potions had done their job, and his injuries were healed—all except for his pride.

"You two better hurry; dinner is almost over," Snape said softly.  He stood and walked towards Draco, putting his hands on his shoulders and squeezing in a paternal gesture.  "You were brilliant out there today, Mr. Malfoy.  Forget about Potter; forget about your housemates; even forget about your father.  You did your best, and that is all any Slytherin could accomplish."

At those words, Draco's mood brightened, and he resisted the urge to hug the man who'd become like a second father to him.  "Thank you, Professor," he said quietly.

Nia watched the exchange with a soft smile.  She hugged her father tightly.  "Thank you for saying that," she whispered into his chest.  "He needed to hear it."

Snape returned the hug with equal affection.  "And I needed to say them.  Mr. Malfoy doesn't know just how good of a person he is; it would do him good to hear the words more often," Snape suggested, looking pointedly at her as she pulled away.  She smiled and nodded, linking her arms through Draco's.

"Are you coming to the Great Hall with us?" she asked the older man.

He smiled apologetically.  "I'll be up in a bit.  I have some things I need to handle."

She nodded, and they left the quarters, walking to dinner in silence.

"Did you see that Bludger I sent at him, Draco?  It was great!" Crabbe said, as they sat down at the table.  Crabbe ignored Nia, and Nia ignored him back, not caring if Crabbe wasn't talking to her.

"Splendid," Draco said flatly, grabbing a piece of steak from the platter before him.  Goyle nudged Nia's side, getting her attention.

"What's up?" she asked.

Goyle glanced at Crabbe before answering.  "He was a raving lunatic up there, Nia," he said in a hushed whisper.  "I thought he was out for blood, the way he was sending those Bludgers.  I couldn't stop him though . . ."

Nia patted his arm reassuringly.  "I know; I don't blame you, Goyle.  You're only doing what's expected of you," she said.

Goyle shook his head.  "Ever since . . . You-Know-Who's been back, it's like something snapped in Crabbe.  As it is, he's always been the least tolerant of Muggles.  Crabbe's gone bloody insane!"  

Nia shuddered.  Every time she heard mention of the Dark Lord, she got a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach.  This time was no different.

"So you believe Harry then?  You believe he's back?" she whispered.  

Goyle nodded slowly.  "If you were here to see the look on his face when he pulled Diggory from that trophy, you wouldn't doubt it either."  He turned back to his meal at that, leaving Nia to ponder his words.  The more she heard about this infamous final task, the more intrigued she became.  Why were people so insistent Voldemort wasn't back?

"Earth to Nia," Pansy said, waving her hand in front of Nia's eyes.  

Nia grinned sheepishly.  "Sorry about that."

Pansy smiled, and Nia thought she was rather pretty when she did.  "Where were you?  Certainly not here with us, enjoying our company!"

"Just thinking," Nia said absently.

"Are you all right?" Draco asked softly, squeezing her shoulders.

"I've lost my appetite, that's all," she said, putting down her napkin.  "I'll see y'all back in the common room."  She gave an apologetic smile to her friends as she left, a bit unsettled all of a sudden.  For the two months she'd been at Hogwarts, she'd learned about Voldemort through her cousin and the Gryffindors.  The Slytherins in her house were very tight-lipped about it, as were her father and Dumbledore.  She wanted to know more about this mysterious Dark Lord, and she couldn't understand why.  

She walked to the breezeway, realizing it had started to snow.  There was someone in the courtyard, and Nia wondered why the person was still sitting there, despite the weather. Curious, she tightened her robe around her and approached the figure.

"Are you okay?" she asked, placing a tentative hand on the person's shoulder.  The person didn't start, nor even flinch.  The head rose slowly, and she found herself looking into a pair of sad green eyes.

_Harry Potter_.  

She stepped back, his sadness washing over her.

"I—I'm sorry," she stammered, seeing the vacant look in his eyes and feeling the warmth that radiated from where she touched him.  She moved her hand from his shoulders, but his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist.  She gasped at the contact; it was quick, yet gentle at the same time.  

His eyes pleaded with hers.

"I don't know why," he murmured, moving his hand from her wrist to her hand.  "But I don't want you to go.  Stay?"

"I'm a Slytherin," she blurted, not knowing why that would be the first thing out of her mouth.  

Harry shook his head, tugging at her hand.  "I don't care.  I just don't want to be alone."

Nia frowned, her confusion growing.  "Do you want me to get Dumbledore?" 

He shook his head harder at that.  "Just, please . . . stay with me.  I don't want to be alone," he murmured again, this time pulling her to him.  She was overcome with the urge to hug him, and she did, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and resting her head atop his.  Harry hugged her middle and placed his head on her chest.  They didn't care about the snow or about the increasing chill in the night air.  In each other's arms, they had all the warmth they needed.


	11. Ten

_Ten_

He'd stared at her all through dinner, watching as she laughed and joked with her housemates.  Sometimes her golden eyes would lock onto his, but she'd break the contact quickly.  Clearly he wasn't the only one affected by what had passed between them over three weeks ago after that infamous Quidditch game.  Harry still didn't know what possessed him to ask her to stay, but when she put her hand on his shoulder, all the pain and desolation he'd been feeling up until then had vanished.  He'd been so far gone he didn't even realize it had been snowing.  Instead, he shivered blankly as he thought of how he would survive the rest of his time at Hogwarts without the very thing that gave him joy.  The look of concern on her face made him realize he didn't want to be left alone—even when she blurted she was in Slytherin.  He knew; he just didn't care.  All he cared about was the warmth she offered and her non-judgmental eyes.  It was the first time he felt he could be vulnerable and didn't have to be the strong Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and he welcomed it.  Being in her arms and feeling her heartbeat felt like the most natural thing in the world. It wasn't until it snowed too hard to be ignored that they'd separated.

And then she saw his scar.  It had been dully aching for weeks, and he was so used to the pain he didn't even think about it.  

That is, until it she kissed it.

The pain left, along with the coldness he'd been feeling.  Harry thought the gesture surprised her as well, for her golden eyes went wide.  She stammered an apology and rushed off to the castle.  Harry was too surprised to do anything, only registering that the ache was gone and he was standing alone in a snow-filled courtyard.  He barely remembered going back to Gryffindor tower.  Harry only knew that, for a few moments, he felt safe and secure.  

Since then he'd been consumed by classes, homework, and the bitterness of not being allowed Quidditch.  He'd exhibited an enormous amount of self-control as he ignored Malfoy's taunts—he didn't want to be banned from Hogwarts as well.  The bugger just wasn't worth that.  Besides, he was 'her' friend—_Roberts's_ friend.  

Harry smirked then.  Throughout the whole interlude, he didn't think to ask her first name.  At the time, it didn't matter.  He groaned, wishing he had asked.  It felt odd thinking of her as "Roberts."

"Harry, are you well?" Hermione asked from beside him.  She looked at him with concerned eyes, but he noted her gaze didn't make him feel the way Roberts's did.  

"Yeah, just thinking about what to go over for the last D.A. meeting before holiday," he lied.

It had been Hermione's idea for Harry to teach students the practical side of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and it was the last happy spot of his school life.  The meetings were held in the Room of Requirement, a magical room that appeared when it was needed and filled with whatever the person required.  They had a pretty good group (Ginny suggested it be called Dumbledore's Army—D.A. for short), represented by every house except Slytherin.  Harry felt a peculiar sense of guilt over that; he assumed all Slytherins would naturally be for Voldemort's side.  That was until . . .

"It's going to be strange not meeting for the next two weeks," Hermione mused as she cut a piece of turkey breast.

He nodded, though his attention was back on the Slytherin table.  This time Draco locked eyes with him and gave a nasty smirk.  Harry scowled, stabbing his fork into his mashed potatoes.

"Ignore him, Harry.  He's not worth it," Hermione said, patting his arm comfortingly.

"I _know_ that," he bit out.  Hermione was a little hurt at his anger, but she took his frustration in stride. 

"Don't worry, mate; he'll get what's coming to him," Fred said from Harry's other side.

"Him and the rest of those no-account Slytherins," Lee said with malice.  

Hermione frowned at that.  "Not all of them are bad.  I think Nia is quite pleasant."  

The three boys looked at each other in confusion.

"_Who?_"

"Nia?  Angelina's cousin?"

"Oh!  You mean the girl who knocked Ferret Boy over the head a few times," Fred said, a smirk appearing on his face at the memory.  "Yeah, I'd fancy she would be pleasant!"

"And she is Angelina's cousin," George added.

"But Angelina can be ruthless when it comes to her friends," Fred realized.

"And she is friends with the Ferret," George pointed out.

"So I guess she can't be too pleasant, then, can she?" Lee concluded.  The three men looked at each other.  "Nope, Hermione.  We have come to the conclusion that this Nia person is a no-account Slytherin, ergo, she is a lost cause."  

"That is the most childish thing I've ever heard," Hermione huffed.  Harry was inclined to agree but kept his mouth shut.  "I don't think Angelina would be too happy about talk of her family like that!"  

"Every lot has a bad apple.  Apparently this Nia character is the bad apple," Lee determined.  

"No, she's not," Harry heard his mouth say.

"And how would _you_ know if she is or not?  Do _you_ know her?" George challenged.  

Hermione saved him the trouble of answering.  "As a matter of fact, I do.  I met her in the library." 

"Figures," Fred teased.

She glared at him.  "There is a Muggle saying you would do well to learn—'Don't judge a book by its cover.'"  The three older boys looked confused.

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" George asked after a moment.  

Hermione looked smug.  "Think about it.  It's not all that hard to figure out."  

Before they could reply, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia entered the hall, muddy from practice.  They sat down next to the twins and Lee.  

"Is Ron coming?" George asked.

"Poor boy.  He's still out there with charmed Quaffles practicing," Alicia cooed.  

Harry was barely paying attention to the conversation, his mind back towards Nia.  

_Well, she finally has a first name,_ he thought with a grin.  

Unconsciously he looked back at the Slytherin table again, and his eyes met hers.  He smiled.  She darted her eyes to the people around her, and this time she smiled shyly back, looking quickly down at her plate again.  

He thought that was so cute.

_Where the hell did _that_ come from?_

"Uh-oh, I think Harry's thinking of a _girl_," Fred said loudly, causing him to jump.

"Wha-what?" he stammered, trying to reenter the conversation.  The twins were looking at him lecherously, and the girls had soft expressions on their faces.  Hermione grinned.  "Are you thinking about Cho?" she whispered in his ear.  

Harry frowned at that.  Though he'd had a crush on the Ravenclaw Seeker since last year, his feelings for Cho had become less clear.  He still got that funny feeling in his stomach when he saw her, but the feeling lessened with each subsequent encounter.  But that could be because his thoughts had been on a certain second year for the past three weeks.

"Ah!  There it is again!  That blush!  I wonder who the lucky lady is," George teased.  

_Lucky indeed_.  

He suddenly lost his appetite.

"I'm going to the Room to make sure everything's in order.  See you soon," he muttered, not looking at them as he left the table quickly.  The halls were gratefully empty as he walked.

_No girl should ever be tied down to the likes of me. _ 

He was a target for Voldemort, and that could bring no luck whatsoever.  His mind flashed to the look of fear in Nia's eyes after she kissed his scar. [He wondered briefly if the ache he felt seeped into her at the contact.  He shuddered at the thought—he wouldn't wish pain like that even on _Malfoy_, let alone someone who was trying to help him.

"I must stay away from her," he determined.  

Though he didn't know her well, he was overcome with a sense of protectiveness for Angelina's cousin.  She had made him feel safe, and damned if he didn't want to return the favor.  He forced himself not to think of the meaning behind that as he opened the door to the Room.  

"Oh dear Merlin."

It was full of Christmas decorations—Dobby was the decorator.  

_Guess I'm going to have to get this down before the others get here. _

 Harry set about preparing for the last Dumbledore's Army meeting before term went on holiday.

Draco watched the Boy Who Lived blush into his plate then glanced down at the girl next to him to see her doing the same thing.

He didn't like that one bit.

"What are you doing, making eyes at Potter?" he whispered heatedly.  

Nia's eyes widened, then hardened at his accusatory tone.

"So are you the only one who's allowed to make eyes at a Gryffindor?" she spat back.  

Draco felt heat rise into his cheeks, and he cursed.  _Damn her for being right._

"That's not the point," he muttered half-heartedly.

Nia smirked.  "That _is_ the point.  But to answer your question, I was not 'making eyes,' as you so eloquently put it.  He smiled at me, and I smiled back.  It's the Southern hospitality in me."

Draco sniggered.  "Yeah, go blame it on your Southern roots.  Just admit you're smitten with the Golden Boy.  I knew it was only be a matter of time before you would be," he said, surprised by the hurt that seeped into his voice.

Nia's eyes softened as she heard his tone change.  "Draco, what's wrong?  Why are you so affected by this?  How can I like him when I've barely held a conversation with the boy!?  It was just a smile." 

Draco put his utensils down, his appetite waning.  "Nothing's wrong.  I think I fancy a walk," he mumbled and left the table.  As he opened the door, it accidentally hit him on the nose.

"Bloody hell!" he gasped.  He heard laughter echoing behind him, which served to make his mood worse.

"Oh damn!  I'm _so sorry!_" he heard before him.

His eyes were watering, and he couldn't see the face, but he definitely recognized the voice.

Ginny.

"Let's get you to Pomfrey," she said, slightly panicked.

Too overcome with pain to resist, he let her drag him up to the hospital wing and tried to ignore the commands of "Keep your head back!" she kept repeating incessantly.

"Bugger, woman!  I know, I know!" he finally grated, though incomprehensible.  They walked inside the hospital wing, and she went to find Pomfrey.  He sat down on one of the hospital beds, keeping his head back as he was supposed to do.

"She's not here, but luckily I know how to fix it right up, seeing as I've lived with six brothers," Ginny mentioned as she walked towards him with a bottle in her hand.  She used the same potion Nia did, rubbing the solution in gentle strokes over his nose.  Draco knew he was holding his breath, but he feared if he exhaled Ginny would go flying away from the force of it.  His pulse did a tattoo at being in such close proximity to the fourth year.  It was only the second time in as many months they'd been in such a state.  If Ginny was affected, she had a good way of hiding it; she treated him as a nurse would a patient.

"Thanks, Little Weasel," he murmured, the pain in his nose long forgotten.  

"Are you ever going to call me by my name?"  She was grinning, and it was infectious.

He grinned as well.  "Are you ever going to do the same?"

She looked down shyly.  Apparently she was affected, too.  She ran a delicate finger down the bridge of his nose as she finished, checking to see if the bones had been mended.  Draco felt a shiver up his spine.

"Well, there you are, good as new," Ginny proclaimed.  

As if in a trance, Draco grabbed her hand, linking her fingers through his.  He kissed her knuckles softly and smirked as he heard her sharp intake of breath.  "Thank you, Miss Weasley," he said softly, lips brushing against her skin.

Ginny's eyes fluttered at the sensations he was causing.  "You're welcome, Mr. Malfoy," she said, just as quietly.  

He stood, his height towering over hers.  "How can I ever repay you?"  He linked his other free hand through hers and brought their joined hands to his hips.  Ginny fell flush against him.  

Her eyes flashed at that, thinking this was one of his jokes.  She pushed him away, stepping well out of his reach.  "Come off it, Ferret!  What are you playing at?  Do you think trying to seduce me to get at my brother and Harry will work?" she said, her temper flaring.

Draco lifted himself from the nightstand where Ginny had pushed him.  "This has nothing to do with Weasel or with Potty.  This has everything to do with you and me, and these feelings you're creating within me."  

Ginny was taken aback by his admission, not knowing how to deal with an honest Malfoy.  "You've—you've _got_ to be kidding me."

"Believe me, Weasley, I'd wish nothing more than to be kidding, but I'm not."  He stepped closer to her.  Gently, he grazed her cheek with his thumb, and her eyes closed at the contact.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.  "Even with mud on your cheek."

Ginny smiled and opened her eyes, a blush creeping up her neck.  She looked in his eyes, and her breath caught.

"You're serious, aren't you?" she breathed.  

Draco sensed she needed to hear the verbal confirmation, and he nodded.  "I'm very serious."

"I have a boyfriend," she said half-heartedly.

Draco snorted.  "I have no intention of coming between you and your 'boyfriend.'"  _Not yet anyway . . ._

Ginny grinned as she frowned, putting her hands on her hips.  "Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?" she asked, half-serious.  

"It's me; I'm just tired, you know?  I'm tired of being who people expect me to be.  I want to be myself, especially around people I've come to care for," he said seriously.

Ginny's mouth opened and closed a bit at that, not knowing what to say.  "You—you care about me?  But you don't even know me."

Draco shrugged.  "You'd be surprised how much you can learn from observing people.  I know you're tired of hiding behind your brothers, tired of being 'Ron Weasley's sister,' tired of being generally ignored and tired of being treated like a china doll.  You're ready to stand on your own two feet."  

She gaped at that.  "Am I _that_ transparent?"

Draco smiled softly.  "You are to people who notice you."  He checked his pocket watch.  "You should go; dinner's almost over." 

Ginny's face fell, and Draco briefly wondered if it meant she didn't want to leave either.

"I reckon so," she said.

They walked out of the hospital wing side by side, not saying a word until they reached the main corridor.

"Thanks again, Miss Weasley.  You do know I can't call you this in public; I have a reputation to uphold," he teased gently.

"I thought you said you were tired of being what people expect you to be?"

He chuckled.  "I don't really much care about 'people.'  I care about you and a few choice others," he clarified.  

Ginny smiled.  "I knew she'd be good for you."

"Who?"

"Nia."

Draco's smile faltered slightly.  "Yeah, very good."  He frowned.  "How do you know her name?"

"Now Mr. Malfoy, I thought you said you were good at observing people.  Mean to tell me you haven't _observed_ where she goes after dinner just about every night?"

He chuckled again.  "'Don't ask, don't tell,' I believe is the Muggle expression." 

Ginny's eyes widened again.  "I can't believe it—Malfoy quoting Muggles."

"You tell anyone, and I'll be forced to have my way with you."  He grinned, impulsively drawing her close to him.  They stared at each other for a few moments in a charged silence.  

Ginny smiled.  "I'll be sure to shout it from the mountaintops, then," she said softly.  

Draco's mouth dropped open, and he nearly fainted dead away when he felt her lips place a delicate kiss to the corner of his mouth.  He stood there, frozen, not able to move.

"Since I know I won't see you until after holiday, Happy Christmas, Draco," she whispered and left the circle of his arms.

He remained that way until long after she entered the Great Hall. 

"Happy Christmas, Virginia," he murmured, a smile adorning his face.


	12. Eleven

_Eleven_

"I don't know if this is a good idea, Sev . . ."__

"Why not?  She's _your daughter."___

Dumbledore sensed this could get ugly fast.  "Caleb, Severus, now is _not the time to discuss such matters as these.  The Floo Network is being watched by the Ministry as it is," Dumbledore warned them.___

Severus glared into the fire at Caleb's head but said nothing.__

"I'll talk to Elle and see what she says," Caleb finally relented.__

"You do that.  Angelina and Nia have grown close, and just because you feel guilty doesn't mean they shouldn't spend some uninterrupted time together," Snape said acidly.__

Caleb frowned.  "I'm surprised you're all for this. A man in your position wouldn't be so . . . _accommodating," he sneered.  ___

Severus's eyes flashed angrily.  "And a man in _yours_ would know to handle his responsibility!"__

"_That is enough!_" Dumbledore bellowed.__

Both men jumped.  The Headmaster rarely raised his voice; when he did, there was no argument.  __

"Goodnight, Headmaster.  Tell Molly my thoughts are with her and the rest of the Weasley clan," Caleb said curtly and disconnected from the Network without a word to the other man.  There was a moment of silence between the two gentlemen.__

"That went well," Severus said sarcastically.__

Dumbledore rolled his eyes and reclined against the back of his chair.  "You shouldn't bait him like that, Severus.  Things haven't been so easy for him, either."__

Severus snorted.  "Right, he didn't have to hear someone falsely call him Daddy everyday for the past twelve years.  I have no sympathy for the bloke." __

Dumbledore looked at him apologetically.  "I'm sorry you had to carry this burden with you, Severus, but we all did.  It was for the best."__

"Sooner or later, the truth will come out," Severus predicted.__

"Yes, but there's a time and a place for everything.  It cannot be forced.  You know that." __

Severus sensed a shift in the headmaster's thoughts.  "Are we still talking about Nia, or are we on Potter now?" __

The older man suddenly looked every bit of his 154 years.__

"I couldn't even meet his eyes, Severus, and it broke my heart," the Headmaster murmured with regret.  __

"Do you—"__

There was a knock on the door, followed by Minerva McGonagall walking into the office.__

"Any news on Arthur's welfare?" Dumbledore asked.__

"He's stable and expected to make a full recovery.  If Harry hadn't realized what was happening . . ." she trailed off, letting the rest of the thought hang.__

"Do you think the Dark Lord is using Potter?" Severus continued with his original question.__

Dumbledore shook his head.  "It's a bit more complicated than that," he clarified.  "I think Voldemort now knows there has been some connection between him and Harry, and he'll exploit it."  __

"You mean because of Arthur's quick rescue," McGonagall deduced.__

Dumbledore nodded.  "Now he'll realize he can tap into Harry's thoughts and feelings just like Harry's been doing all this time.  I don't think I could bear it if I saw Voldemort peering out of Lily's eyes," Dumbledore said quietly.  __

McGonagall patted his hand.  "I don't think you'll have to worry about that, Albus.  Potter is a strong one.  He even threw off the Imperius Curse last year!" __

Dumbledore sighed.  "Yes, and he even threw off Voldemort's as well, but Voldemort is stronger now than he was during the summer.  Harry's mind shields will need extra strengthening.  I would train him, but I don't know if I could do it . . ."  __

"Severus could do it," McGonagall offered.  __

Severus groaned.  "He'll be none too pleased by this, Minerva.  He, as Nia says it, 'hates my guts.'"  __

Dumbledore smiled a bit at that assessment, then immediately sobered.__

"That may be, Severus, but he hates Voldemort more," McGonagall clarified.  "He'll go with you, albeit reluctantly."__

"Goody."  __

"Is there anything else you require of me tonight, Albus?" she asked as she stood.__

Dumbledore shook his head.  "No, but you can tell those close to the Weasleys about their father's condition tomorrow.  I think they'll know something's amiss when they don't come downstairs in the morning."__

"Yes, Headmaster," McGonagall said and took her leave.__

Dumbledore waited until the door closed before speaking again.  "Speaking of going with you, Caleb has a point."__

"And what point would that be?"__

"About Nia spending time with the Johnsons.  One would think you'd want her to spend the holidays with you."  __

Severus shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  "You know I have . . . duties to attend to." __

"Yes, but can't you spare even a few days?  I know she'd love to spend some quality time with you."__

Severus evaded the question.  "Why doesn't Jamilah want Nia back in the States?  One would think she has missed Nia all this time.  They haven't been apart for this long since Nia's birth."__

"My granddaughter has her reasons as to why Nia should not come home just yet," Dumbledore said.  __

Severus controlled the urge to roll his eyes.  "Which are?"__

"The primary reason . . . the first of Malika's letters." __

Severus looked perplexed.  "What does this letter have to do with anything?"__

"This letter has everything to do with her being at the Johnsons' this holiday." __

Severus's eyes widened in understanding.  "Time and place," he whispered, realizing Dumbledore's implication.__

"Yes, Severus.  The time and place is near."__

__

~~~~~~~__

__

_"That bitch."_

_Thanatos guffawed at his comment.  "Are we referring to the same bitch that evaded your 'bull' advances with a knife attached to her tail?"_

_Set glared at the other god, not in the mood for his taunts.  They were in Thanatos's lair, where red flames licking about as the damned souls wailed in misery.  They only added to the cacophony that was Thanatos's voice.  _

_"Shut your mouth, Thanatos.  I do not have time for your idle speech.  I have a bitch to train."_

_"I fear, Set, she is unbreakable, at the very least, by you.  Apedemak does not seem to have as much trouble . . ."_

_"I hate that bastard more than Osiris," Set muttered._

_"What do you plan to do?  Nail him in a coffin, as well?"  ___

_Set growled and threw an urn against the cavern wall, finding little joy as it shattered loudly.  "Isis will just find and revive him as she did with Osiris." ___

_"Why don't you kill her?  She'd make a lovely paramour . . ."  ___

_Set whirled around.  "She will not be yours, Thanatos.  She will _never_ be yours."_

_Thanatos arched an eyebrow.  "Funny, I was going to say the same for you."_

_Set's head transformed into a jackal, and his previously white skin turned red to match his head as he took on his battle mode.  Thanatos rolled his eyes, unimpressed by Set's theatrics._

_"Do not provoke me, Thanatos.  You may be my master, but I will be far more powerful than you'll ever be!"_

_"But you are not right now!" Thanatos reminded him.  "I am teaching you the ways of the great Typhon, you imbecile.  Very few are as privileged as you."_

_"The 'great' Typhon now lies under a rock spitting fire through a tiny hole at the top.  I believe humans call it volcano . . ."_

_"You try my patience, Set."_

_"As you try mine.  Maybe one of us will succeed yet."_

_"It is not too late for me to eject you from here and leave you at the mercy of your newly-resurrected brother," Thanatos threatened._

_Set barked with laughter.  "Osiris's mercy?  Don't you mean Isis's mercy?  We all know she's the real ruler of the Upper World."_

_"Not for long."  ___

_Set snorted and rolled his eyes.  "She is the most powerful creature in the universe—she even tricked Ra into revealing his real name to her."_

_"Do you doubt me?  Do you doubt yourself?  She is but a woman."_

_"She is a woman with power—a very dangerous being, Thanatos."_

_"She is also a woman with two men in her heart.  A woman in love is reckless."_

_"She will not leave our brother, of that I am certain."_

_"That is exactly what I desire.  Osiris is as good as dead, even if your Isis managed to save him from me.  Thoth had a hand in that, I am certain, but he will not help again.  Oh no, Apedemak is the key.  To get to Isis, we need to get to Apedemak."_

_"It will never work," Set predicted._

_Thanatos hurled a ball of fire at the jackal-headed god.  Set crashed into a wall from the force of the attack.  "Listen, you fool, and listen to me well!  I don't _care_ about _Isis_.  I don't _care_ about _Osiris_.  But _they_ control the Upper World, the world that _should_ belong to me.  You deal with your family as you see fit.  Burn them, maim them, rape them—whatever—so long as I rule there.  Apedemak is the key.  Why do you think I sent you up there to convince him to fight against Osiris?  He is the best warrior in the Upper World!"  ___

_Set returned to his human form.  "What am I?  Chopped liver?"_

_"A waste of my time."_

_"I am stronger than my brother.  I should've had the throne!"_

_"That's why you are with me, Set.  I will secure the throne for you.  But that can only be done with Apedemak out of the way."_

_"But Isis—"_

_"_FORGET ABOUT ISIS!_"  Thanatos roared, his eyes blazing._

_Set held his stance, not to be bullied.  "Thanatos, we cannot forget about Isis.  You think Apedemak is the key, but he's just as enraptured by Isis as Osiris is.  You want the throne, you have to get Isis."_

_"Have you listened to a word I've said?  With Osiris dead and Apedemak out of the way, Isis will fall at our feet.  You will have your bitch, and I will have the throne with you by my side."_

_Set was about to answer when a missive entered._

_"My lords, Osiris has attacked our troops in Thebes.  He now controls it, by Ra's command."_

_Thanatos screeched, hurling fireballs erratically through the lair.  The missive left hurriedly, and Set dodged them, letting the other vent out his frustration.  "Get Osiris!   He must die.  Now!  And make it so he cannot return to the land of the living!" he hissed._

_"What of Isis?" Set asked._

_"Isis is really of no consequence.  She hides behind Ra and her loves.  With Osiris gone, and Apedemak soon to follow, there will be no reason for Isis to be.  She will die, just like the rest of her pathetic family, and I will rule . . . _I WILL RULE!_"_

_Set left the deranged god with a scowl.  _

Pathetic, are we? he thought as he crossed the portal to the Upper World.  Your underestimation of us will be your downfall, Thanatos, and it will secure my conquest.

_Set grinned evilly.  _Only a matter of time, Isis, before you will be mine.__

__

__


	13. Twelve

_Twelve_

Voldemort was incensed.

"Not _only_ did you bumbling half-wits not get the prophecy, you _failed_ to exterminate that Mudblood loving Weasley!" he snarled, though his high-pitched voice made it sound more like a squeal.

Though funny sounding, it was not nearly enough to risk laughter.  

"But, my lord, surely there must be someone—"

Lucius Malfoy was promptly cut off with a bout of the Cruciatus Curse.

"Anyone else dare give me an excuse?" Voldemort challenged.  He was met with silence.  "Leave me.  I cannot stand the sight of you brainless bastards any longer," Voldemort ordered with a wave of his hand, sitting heavily on his "throne."  The Death Eaters tried not to look so eager to leave, turning almost hesitantly to go.  "Oh.  One more thing."  The Death Eaters cringed in anticipation.  "Happy Christmas."

Some Death Eaters could barely contain a shudder while others not at all.  "Happy Christmas, my lord," they murmured monotonously.  They made haste to retreat.

"That was rather . . . _sadistic_ of you, my lord," Pettigrew said.  

Voldemort cackled.  "You know me too well, Wormy."

"Keeping them on their toes?"

"Precisely."

Pettigrew looked at Voldemort with interest.  "Weren't you the least bit curious as to what Malfoy would say?"

Voldemort seemed bored.  "He was attempting to tell me what I already know." 

"Which is?"

"We have a connection," he said simply.

Pettigrew's face lit up.  "Oh, my lord!  You feel it as well?  I thought it was just me!" Pettigrew said, as he threw his arms around the Dark Lord.   Voldemort was too shocked to avoid the embrace.

"Unhand me this instant!" he screeched when he finally regained his wits.  Pettigrew slowly let go of his lordship.

"Are you daft, Wormtail?  I wasn't talking about _you;_ I was talking about _Potter!_"  

Pettigrew looked sheepish and a bit hurt.  "Forgive me, my lord, I should have known."  Pettigrew fell to the floor, groveling at Voldemort's feet.

"As I was saying, Potter and I have a connection—apparently he can feel my emotions and even see what I'm doing at a certain point in time.  Once I realize how to tap into his, the wizarding world is as good as mine!" Voldemort grinned evilly.

"How do you plan on manipulating this connection, my lord?"

Voldemort stood and began to pace slowly.  "I will behave as if I know nothing of this, however.  If Potter realizes I can manipulate him, too, he'll go to Dumbledore and . . ." he shuddered to think of all Dumbledore could do.  

"Brilliant idea, my lord.  We will retrieve the prophecy soon," Pettigrew said surely.  

Voldemort snorted.  "How do you know?  With this group of ingrates I have in my ranks, I'm surprised you're so optimistic," he sneered.

"The Fates proclaimed it so."

Voldemort whirled, looking at the younger man in surprise.  The weak, nasally voice was gone, replaced by a stronger, more confident one.

"Wormtail?" Voldemort asked skeptically.

Pettigrew smile, and it was a very evil one.  "Yes, my lord?"

Voldemort's confusion grew at Pettigrew's nonchalance.  "Are you well?"

Pettigrew smirked.  "I've never been better."

Voldemort walked around the seemingly transformed man.  No longer did Pettigrew crouch before him, dodge his eyes, or speak in that annoying weak voice.  It seemed to Voldemort that Pettigrew became a man.

And he reveled in it.

"What has happened to you, Wormy?" Voldemort asked.

The man grinned, his eyes growing dark.

"She has finally entered into womanhood.  At last, she will be mine . . ." Pettigrew uttered, trance-like.

"She who?"

Pettigrew's eyes took on a glint that made even Voldemort tremble.  "The Goddess of Magic."

"Now _that's_ what I call a Christmas gift!"  

Nia had been in the shower when the once clear water turned scarlet in the tub.  She cried out, thinking she'd hurt herself when she realized the blood was coming from between her legs.  Cousin Elle had been supportive, if a bit emotional as she helped Nia calm down before going to call Jamilah, but Angelina cooed annoyingly as she teased Nia about finally becoming a woman.

_The punk._

Nia glared into the mirror at her cousin.  "That's it!  Get out!  You ain't helpin' nothin'!" she hissed as she shooed Angelina out of the bathroom.  "Where are they?"

"Under the sink.  And in your case, I'd suggest you use the super-absorbent ones," Angelina sniggered through the door.

"Shut your pie-hole!" she hollered.  Nia groaned, putting the soiled washcloth under the running water in the sink.  The water drained crimson into the plumbing.  

"This is _not_ my idea of a Christmas gift.  I want to return it," she pouted.  Her grandmother had told her of this time when a girl became a woman—she just forgot to mention how messy it was.

And the smell?  Nia shuddered.  

No wonder she'd been so snappy in the past week.  Her stomach had been dully aching for days—now she knew why.  

"At least I didn't get it at Dad's house.  He probably would've fainted," she muttered.  

Sighing, Nia placed the relatively cleaned cloth in the hamper and walked out of the bathroom annoyed.  Angelina was bouncing on the bed, grinning at her.

"Guess what?" she sang.

Nia rolled her eyes.  "What?"

"You're a woman now," Angelina squealed.

"Yippee."

"Who would have thought Nia would get the gift of womanhood for Christmas!"

"Were _you_ this excited when you got _your_ first period?" Nia asked, crossing her arms in front or her.

Angelina snorted.  "Hell no!  Mum called just about everyone she ever knew with the news—embarrassed me to hell!" Angelina chuckled at the memory.  "I remember when she called Cousin Malika . She got me on the phone and said, 'I know you're not thrilled about it now, but there'll come a time when that will be the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.  Heed my words, girlie:  It's when the period _stops_ you should start crying.'  I didn't get it then, but after growing up and going to Hogwarts, I have a new respect for _that_ bit of advice!" Angelina laughed at the memory.  

Nia's eyes went downcast.  "Lucky you.  She'll never be able to say it to me."

Angelina immediately sobered, pulling her into a side-hug.  "I'm sorry, Nia.  I should be more considerate of your feelings."

Nia smiled a joyless smile and snorted.  "Yeah, that sounds like my mother all right.  Matter of fact, I think she would've acted just like you did had she been here," she said wryly.

Angelina laughed at that, for there was no doubt in her mind that Nia was right.  "It's almost hard to believe our mothers were cousins."

"Not really.  Your mother grew up in stuffy ole England!"

Angelina looked aghast.  "You take that back!" she demanded playfully.

Nia stuck out her tongue.  "Make me!"

Angelina began to tickle Nia, causing her to squirm out of her grasp.  Nia ran down the stairs, and Angelina gave chase, both girls shrieking happily.  When they reached the foot of the stairs both stuttered to a halt.  Nia felt dread overcome her like a tidal wave.

"Mum, Dad, what's wrong?" Angelina asked, fear creeping into her voice.

The two adults looked tiredly at their daughter before turning their attention to Nia.  They dropped eye contact immediately.

"Dumbledore sent an owl to you," Caleb said in a quiet voice, staring at the floor.  

"What's wrong with that?" Nia asked.  Neither of them could meet Nia's eyes.

"_What?_" she asked again, panic in her voice.  "Is something wrong with Grandma?"

Elle shook her head.  "Aunt Jamilah's fine."

"Mum, you are scaring us," Angelina said, walking into the living room.

"Sometimes . . . sometimes parents make mistakes, and we go about fixing them the wrong way and—"

"Ellie, now is _not_ the time," Caleb said warningly.

Elle bit back a sob.

"The time for what?" the girls asked.

Caleb stood and walked to Nia, placing the owl in her hands.  "Don't open it just yet.  Wait until New Year's Eve to open it.  Those are Dumbledore's orders."

Nia thought that an odd request.

"Why?" Angelina asked, stealing Nia's question.  Elle seemed to crack at that, her body racked with sobs.  Angelina brushed past Nia to comfort her mother.  "Mummy, what's the matter?"  Elle couldn't answer for her tears.  

Nia felt as helpless as the day she watched her mother die, and she didn't like it one bit.  She tried to look into Caleb's eyes for any clue to why Elle was crying, or why the mood was so somber, but he refused to meet hers.  It was then Nia realized their odd behavior had something to do with _her_.  Without a word, she walked up the stairs calmly, though her insides were in turmoil.  She walked into her room and sat on the edge of the bed where not moments before she was happy, albeit achy.  Nia was numb, thumbing the owl idly.  Sighing, she flipped over the envelope to see who sent it.  

She gasped.

It was from her mother.


	14. Thirteen

_Thirteen_

His back was to her as she entered the room.  It was Christmas, but there seemed little to celebrate after what had happened over the past few days.  

"Ron?" she called gently, her voice sounding piercing even to her ears, though it was no louder than a whisper.  

He did not budge.

She closed the door to keep the noise of the twins singing loudly from downstairs.  "Ron, why don't you come downstairs?  Your mum's been looking for you," she said as she walked further into the room.  He still did not answer, but she heard him sniffle.

He was crying.

"Oh Ron," she sighed and walked quickly to him.  Hermione hugged him from behind, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and resting her cheek on top of his head.  Ron cried harder at her tenderness.

"He could've died, Hermione," he croaked.

She shook her head against his.  "But he didn't.  Your father was in good spirits when we saw him today; he'll be fine."

"But if it hadn't been for Harry . . ." Ron trailed off, his tears coming in earnest then.  Hermione felt tears prick her own eyes, and she held the weeping boy tighter.  "Of course Harry would save your father.  He practically considers you family!" Hermione reminded him.  "He wouldn't let anything to Mr. Weasley or anyone else.  Remember he saved your sister three years ago from the Chamber of Secrets?" 

Ron stood at that, angry all of a sudden.  "That's _exactly_ my point, Hermione!  Harry's the only one who can save us!  I can't do anything, _anything!_" Ron began to pace in distress.  "_I_ should've known something was wrong with Ginny during second year; I_ could not have known_ my father had been attacked.  I couldn't do any of those things.  What kind of brother and son am I when I can't even protect my family?" He kicked over a chair, and Hermione jumped, startled by his behavior.

"Ron, that's not fair!" 

"Isn't it?  I couldn't even protect you from being Petrified!  That really scared me, Hermione.  I was afraid I lost you!  Afraid I wouldn't be able to tell you how special you were to me, because you'd never be cured," Ron moaned.

Hermione's eyes were wide, and her mouth moved before any sound could come out.  "I'm—I'm special to you?" she asked timidly.

Ron's countenance softened, and he turned to face her. His eyes were still red from crying, and his cheeks were flushed.

He was beautiful.

"Of course you are!  You're my best friend, Hermione!  Harry's, of course, like a brother to me, but you, you're just so very special," he said sincerely.

Hermione flew to him and hugged him tight.  "You're special to me too, Ron," she breathed into his chest.  It was broader than she remembered it to be and more solid.  Quidditch practice was doing wonders to his physique.  She felt his hands come to her hair and caress slowly.

"Thank you for making me feel better," he whispered.

"That is what friends do," Hermione said as she pulled away.

He looked sad again.  "Then I must be a pretty lousy friend, because all I ever seem to do is make you cry."

Hermione shook her head, but he cradled her face, stilling its movement.  "You're not a lousy friend, Ron.  I don't know how many people would throw up slugs for me," she teased.  

"Harry would," he said.

"Yes, he would," Hermione conceded.

"He'd do that and so much more."  He dropped his hands and backed away from her.  "Maybe it's better if I'm not around him anymore.  All I seem to do is drag him down.  I couldn't help him when he faced Voldemort during first year; I had to _baby-sit_ Lockhart our second year; I broke my leg trying to rescue _Scabbers_ third year; and I wasn't old enough or good enough to be with him during the Triwizard Tournament last year!"  

Hermione's eyes hardened.  "Shut up right now, Ronald Weasley!  Stop your sulking!" 

"What for? I'm only telling the truth."

She marched up to Ron and yanked him down forcefully.  He yelped, but her lips muffled the sound.  She tasted the tears he'd cried, and her heart ached again.  She broke away slowly.

"Hermione—"

"Don't you _ever_ say something like that again!  You _are_ good enough.  In fact, you're better than enough," she whispered against his lips.

"Hermi—"

"Harry is _not_ a meter stick by which you measure your worth, Ron, so just bloody _stop it!_" she seethed, shaking him a bit.

"Yes, Mum."  She felt his lips curve into a smile at that, wrapping his arms around her waist tightly.  Hermione shivered at the contact.  "Cold?"

She shook her head.  "No."  She shivered again.

He chuckled.  "I think you're lying, Miss Granger.  Methinks you should be properly punished, hmm?" he said huskily.

She looked at him askance.  "What are you on about, Ron?"

"Your punishment."  He kissed her softly.  This one lasted longer, and both seemed reluctant to break it.

"Was that it?" she asked with a coy smile.  

"I reckon.  You haven't really been all that naughty, Hermione.  We need to work on that," he said with a wink.  She turned beet red, and Ron laughed.  Hermione liked the sound of it.  She'd never noticed these things until now—his deeper voice, his taller frame, his muscular build.  Hermione looked at her friend in a new light, and she fell in love all over again.

"Oh dear," she murmured; her eyes went wide.

Ron looked concerned.  "What's wrong?"  She made to leave his arms, but Ron was having none of that.  He tightened his arms around her waist to prevent her flight.

"We have to go back downstairs, Ron; your mum might be worried."

"We're fine," Ron insisted.  "Besides, I think you need punishment again, for trying to leave my arms without permission."

Hermione sighed, exasperated yet excited.  "Oh come off it, Ron!  I was sent up here to summon you, not snog you!"

"You started it," he reminded her with a grin.

"And now I end it," she mumbled and stared down at her feet.

He gently lifted her chin with his forefinger.

"But I don't want it to end," he whispered, bending and kissing her again.

Ginny sat in a corner of the drawing room, watching the twins and Sirius dance drunkenly and sing horribly off-key.

"Dear Merlin," Ginny muttered, rubbing her temples to alleviate their throbbing.  She closed her eyes.

"Gin."

"What?"

She did not open her eyes, and she heard an exasperated sigh.

"May I speak with you?"

"About?"

There was a pregnant pause.

"Voldemort."

Ginny still did not open her eyes.  "What for?   You seem to know everything about him."  

She heard him sigh again.

"Ginny, please," he said plaintively.

Ginny groaned, finally opening her eyes.  Harry's face was drawn and pensive, much older than his fifteen years.  

"Not here.  Let's go in my room."

He nodded, and they slipped unheeded from the room.  They didn't say anything as they climbed the stairs, leaving Ginny to realize that had this happened a year ago, she would've been ecstatic.

Now she felt like she was letting one of her brothers in her room.

"Huh."  She chuckled out loud.

"What was that?" she heard him ask from behind her.

"I was just thinking how in the past I would've never had the courage to speak to you, much less invite you to my room," she said as she opened the door.  Harry turned scarlet and brushed past her into the room, sitting on the bed with his hands on his thighs.  She sniggered.  "Get your mind out of the gutter, Potter!  I didn't mean it like _that!"_

He sputtered in embarrassment, before giving in and laughing himself.  "Thanks, Gin, I needed to laugh."

She smiled kindly.  "We all do.  It's been a trying holiday season so far." 

"Try a whole year," Harry muttered.  She went and sat down beside him, taking his hand in hers.  She squeezed comfortingly, and he returned the gesture.

"Do you ever have nightmares, Gin?" he asked after a moment.

"I used to, but they've subsided a bit."

"Even now, since Voldemort's return?" he asked incredulous.

Ginny gave a half smile.  "Admittedly, I used to take a Dreamless Sleep Potion to help me through it, but lately I've had little use for it."

"Why didn't _I _think of that potion?" he moaned.

She squeezed his hand again.  "Don't be too hard on yourself, Harry.  You have a lot on your mind.  It helps to talk about it."

"Did you talk to someone?"

She nodded.  "Yeah, Angelina's mum in fact. She's a therapist, you know."

He shook his head.  "But isn't Angelina's mum Muggle?"

"Yeah, but she's in the Order, in a matter of speaking; both of Angelina's parents are."

"I didn't know they allowed Muggles in the Order."

"Well, not _technically, _but the goal is to defeat Voldemort, and since many of his targets are Muggles, it only makes sense to make some of them allies.  Most of the Muggles are parents or relatives or witches and wizards—folks who already know about our world," Ginny explained.

"How do you know all of this?" he asked, clearly impressed.

"I have my ways."  She winked.  He laughed.  There was a companionable silence that followed, Ginny absently rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb.

"Is that why you stopped liking me?  Because of him?"

There was no need for Ginny to ask who "him" was.

"That was part of it."  His face fell at that, and Ginny spoke quickly to explain.  "I realized then it could never work between us, especially after the Triwizard Tournament."

"Because I'm a target for Voldemort," he answered bitterly.

Ginny shook her head.  "No," she insisted.  "It's because I've come to love you like a brother.  The concern I felt for you was the same concern I'd feel for Ron or Charlie, or any other of my brothers.  Any romantic notions I felt for you drifted away."

"And they drifted to Malfoy, I see."

Ginny started.  "How did you—did Hermione tell you?" she asked, her voice hardening.

"_Hermione _knows?"

Ginny sighed.  _That answered _that_ question!_  "Yes, she knows.  And so does Angelina."

"But his father is a Death Eater!" Harry exclaimed.

She closed her eyes, not wanting him to see her disappointment.  "Your point?" 

"My point?  That _is_ the point!  Malfoy's father is a Death Eater, which makes Malfoy a Death-Eater-in-Training.  He and his lot are no good, and you should stay away from them!" he said fiercely.

Ginny laughed in spite of herself.  "Yep.  You've become a Weasley all right.  You've started telling me what to do," she said wryly.

Harry shook his head.  "I'm only looking out for you, Gin.  Ron would kill me if I let you get hurt."

"Don't you trust my judgment?" she asked him.  "I was taken over by the epitome of evil!  _Don't_ you think I'd know when someone is no good?"

Harry sighed, conceding her point.  He leaned against his elbows on the bed and looked at the ceiling.  "That still doesn't change the fact he's a Malfoy, or a Slytherin."

Ginny laughed sardonically.  "Same song, different singer," she muttered.  "Unlike you and my brothers, I don't go around labeling people because of House affiliation.  You miss out on great people like that."

"Great people like Corner from Ravenclaw?"

She snorted.  "No, not him.  He has an ego as wide as the Atlantic and a jealousy streak as long as infinity."

Harry chuckled.  "You're the one dating him!"

"That will soon be rectified."

"And you think Malfoy is any better?" he asked skeptically.

"I know he is."

Harry rolled his eyes.  "I still think you're off your rocker.  Anything even associated with a Malfoy is bad news."

Ginny lifted an eyebrow.  "Even Nia?"  She saw him tense at the name, then relax his body.

"No," he admitted.  "Not her."

"But she and Malfoy are best mates—practically brother and sister."

He sighed, running a palm over his face.  "Yes, but she's . . . _so_ different from the others."

"Not so different if she managed to make friends with her housemates, _especially_ Malfoy.  Remember what you said?  'Anything associated with Malfoy is bad news,'" Ginny reminded him.

"She isn't.  I don't think there's an evil bone in her body," Harry said.

She laughed shortly.  "Oh my!  You should hear the stories she tells.  In fact, I remember when she told me she punched Draco in the stomach—hard."

"Draco?" he teased.  "You must really like him if you dare to call him by name in my presence!"  

Ginny ignored him, rolling her eyes.  "_Anyway_, that proves she's not so nice, if she punched him and lived to tell about it."

Harry snickered.  "But hitting Malfoy isn't being evil; it's doing a public service!"  They both laughed.

"That wasn't nice," she said finally, all the while trying to contain her chuckles.

"You laughed, as well," he retorted.  "And _you're_ the one who likes him!"

Her laughter subsided.  "Can you deal with that?" 

 "Do I have a choice?  I'll get over it," he shrugged.  "Maybe when I'm eighty, but I'll get over it."  

She smiled.  "Honestly, Harry, he seems like he's changing for the better.  Ever since Nia came, Draco hasn't been his usual ferret self as often.  She has that effect on people."  

"Yeah, she does," he said in a far-away voice.

"Sounds to me you've had personal experience with that," she teased.

Harry blushed, looking at the ceiling again.  "You could say that."

Ginny's eyes widened, and she squealed.  "Harry James Potter!  Is something happening between you two?"  He sat up and met her eyes then.  Ginny gasped at the determination she saw in them.

"Yes," he replied.  "And I aim to find out what it is."


	15. Fourteen

_To my Little One, Nia,_

_First of all—_you're a woman now!_  Oh dear goodness, I wish I was there to tease you and cry over the fact that my baby girl isn't such a baby anymore.  I wish I was there to see how beautiful you are becoming—like your grandma and your great-great-grandma.  I wish I was there to hold you and explain things to you, because after you read this letter, no doubt you'll more than likely feel hurt, even hatred toward me.  It's nothing less than I deserve, but I couldn't tell you earlier.  How could I?  How could I tell you you're not who you thought you were, that you are entirely more important than you could ever believe yourself to be?_

_As it is, I cannot give you all of the information now—you are too weak and too young to have that burden upon your shoulders.  It's bad enough Lily's child will have such a monster after him from his birth until one or the other is destroyed (Lily Evans was my best friend after your daddy; she was two years older than I; her son is my godson.  I hope you get a chance to meet him.), but you—my Little One—you will not have to worry.  Your daddy and all those who love and care for you have seen to it you are protected and that he has no knowledge of your existence.  I know this is very vague, but at least now you know just exactly what I mean by "special."_

_I know you are at Hogwarts now (say hello to the Bloody Baron and to Nearly Headless Nick for me; they'll know who you mean), and things are probably a bit overwhelming.  Ha!  Imagine going to that school without a clue of what it meant to be a witch!  Mama said, "You're going to boarding school and that's final!"  Your grandpa hardly said anything against it because he was always off fighting some war or resolving some conflict.  Luckily Uncle Danny and Aunt Felicia never moved back to the States after World War II so I had a place to stay during holiday.  Mama couldn't afford to let me come home during the time I was there—but that's neither here nor there.  I remember I had to go get fitted for a wand and that Ollivanders' guy scared me so!  And then the Sorting!  I was shaking so badly McGonagall had to hold my arms to get me to stop! (Tell her I said hello, too!)  When the hat screamed Gryffindor, I was so relieved, because that was Great-Grandpa Albus's House and I knew I was in good hands (not that Slytherin's all that bad, mind you.  I know you'll be Sorted there—your daddy thinks otherwise.  Gloat for me when you get there, will you?) _

_Oh goodness gracious, I've gotten off subject.  I'm just rambling and rambling, because I wish to goodness I was there with you instead of in this letter.  But to the important things.  There is something you need to know, and you need to know it now because without this knowledge you will not be able to fulfill your destiny.  I'm sorry, honey, but Severus Snape is not your biological father.  He's legally your father, for he adopted you, but you are not blood related.  Oh how I wish he were.  He's the most beautiful person I know, after you of course—you're my heart.  But Severus was my soul.  I remember when I first met him.  Lily was being maliciously teased by this stupid boy named Nott (never learned his first name; didn't care to know it, either), and Severus said in that silky voice, 'I'd shut up, because the Little One looks like she's ready to hex you.'  He said it so cool, so calm, just leaning against the wall with his ankles crossed, like he was eighteen instead of thirteen years old.  And I was mad, too, but when I heard him speak . . . oh chile, it was something!  He looked at me with an amused expression on his face; a smirk (oh I love his smirk), and I fell in love.  I did.  I fell in love with your father the first time I saw him.  Something clicked for me—for us (he told me he fell in love with me too.  You wouldn't know it to look at him, but Severus has such a romantic side to him.)_

_I'm rambling again, aren't I?  You'll humor your mama, won't you?  Anyway, yes, your father is not your 'father,' but he is your father—never mind.  Your real father is Caleb Johnson—yes, that Caleb Johnson.  Cousin Caleb.  Angelina's daddy.  My cousin's husband.  Your father by blood.  I know you're in such a state of shock right now—probably even disbelief.  You're numb; I know you are.  That's to be expected, but please don't do like I think you're going to do and shut people out.  Nia, this is _not_ the time to do this.  You can't shut them out forever, least of all Caleb.  Caleb's a stubborn one—often I thought he should've been a Gryffindor instead of a Ravenclaw, but Lord knows he's as smart as they come.  You're smart too, NiNi, very smart—you get that from Caleb.  But, Nia, remember this:  Caleb may be your biological father, but Severus is your daddy.  He was there from the moment you came out kickin' and screamin' (I think we all would've if we knew what this world was like. See, I told you you were smart!), and he'll continue to be there until death comes.  He loves you so much, and Caleb does too.  You wonder why Caleb was always holding you and playing with you when they came to visit?  It was hard for him to give you up, but it had to be done—for your safety, for everyone's safety.  There I go being vague again, but soon you'll realize just what's going on._

_In the meantime, I sure hope you like history, because you'll need to study it for a while!  The history and mythology of Ancient Egypt and Nubia are of the utmost importance to learn—especially about magic.  Pay particular close attention to Set, Isis, Osiris, Nephthys, and Apedemak for they were the major gods and goddesses of that time.  The more you learn of them the better equipped you will be. (Your great-great grandma was actually a priestess in the Temple of Isis in Aswan; ask Great-Grandpa Albus more about that.)_

_As I told you when you told me about your dream, you are destined for great things, Nia.  That's why I named you that—Nia is "purpose" in Swahili, and you will serve a great purpose.  Pretty soon you'll be getting extra lessons in Transfiguration with McGonagall and Care for Magical Creatures with Hagrid.  (He should still be there, despite the many changes I'm sure Hogwarts has been going through up to then.)  Next year, you should have Divination on your syllabus, as well as Ancient Runes; those classes will help you as you learn more about the task before you._

_There, my NiNi, my Little One, I know this is so much to take in, and I wouldn't blame you if you cursed my name and everyone's name who was involved with this.  But, I beg of you, please don't.  I'd rather you say nothing than to say something you may regret, baby.  I love you.  Oh dear goodness, I loved you before you even existed.  I dreamed of you, holding you.  You were perfect, and no matter who your father is or how you were conceived, you were born into love, because of love, and for love.  Never doubt that, Nia.  You'll find such happiness; you'll find a love to rival that of your great-great grandparents, Romeo and Juliet, Aida and Radames (Aida was the sister of one of great-great grandmother's ancestors, they even wrote an opera about it)—it'll be there for you.  It'll be there in your family, in your friends, in your future lover . . .and in me.  I may not be there physically, but I am there.  Whenever you call, I'll be there; just trust in that.  Mama loves you now.  Peace be with you._

_Forever your loving Mama,_

_Malika Javier Roberts Snape_


	16. Fifteen

_Fifteen_

Fred Apparated into the dark attic, his heart beating wildly in his chest.  Angelina's owl had been frantic, and he was terrified.

"Angel? Angel, where are you?"

"_Lumos_."

A soft blue light radiated from his left, and he walked toward it, lighting his own wand as he went.  He saw her there, the light reflecting off the tear tracks on her dark cheeks.

"Angel, what's wrong?" he asked, as he crouched down before her.  He placed his hands on her cheeks, his thumbs catching the tears as they fell.  Angelina closed her eyes.

"They lied to me, Fred . . . all this time, all my life has been one great big lie," she sobbed.  

Fred frowned in confusion.  "Angel, what are you talking about?"

"I have a sister."

Silence.

"_What_?  You're an only child!"

Angelina snorted.  "Actually I'm not, and I haven't been for the past twelve years." 

"This makes no sense!  How can you have a sister?  When will you meet her?  Are you going to meet her?"

She snorted again.  "I have met her.  She's Nia."

Silence.

"_Your cousin!_"

"Well, she's still my cousin.  My father got my mother's cousin pregnant, and all three lied about it," she said bitterly.

Fred plopped down onto his behind, absorbing what Angelina was telling him.  "Your father cheated on your mother with her _cousin!_  That's bloody _awful!_"

Angelina's face crumpled again.  "I thought they were so in love!  They almost rivaled your parents, always holding each other and kissing and saying 'I love you.'  I can't believe how they lied to me!  I can't _believe_ I used to think of Malika like a second mother!  She's nothing but a home wrecker!  A man-stealing whore!  It's a wonder she was ever in Gryffindor!"

Fred had never seen Angelina so distraught before, and his heart ached terribly.  "Sweet Angel, surely you don't mean that," he began, but Angelina nodded.

"The hell I don't!  I _mean_ it, Fred!  You know, Lee was right; Nia deserves to be in Slytherin!  Any child of a whore belongs in that House!" she spat.  Her eyes widened at that declaration, and she broke down in sobs.  Fred quickly went to her side and gathered her into his arms.

"Let it all out, love.  I'm here for you, Angel," Fred cooed into her braids.  

Angelina grabbed his robes, and she cried body-wracking sobs.  "I didn't mean it, Fred, I didn't."

"I know, love, I know."

"You should've seen Nia when she came downstairs and confronted my parents.  She was unnaturally calm when she asked them to confirm what she'd read.  When they did, she walked back upstairs.  Now she won't talk to anyone—not even me.  She's afraid I hate her!  I don't hate her, Fred," she sniffled.

"I know you don't, Angel."  He kissed the top of her head then adjusted to kiss her forehead.

"Mum was crying when Dad gave Nia the letters—it was two days before Christmas.  She said something about 'think we're doing something right.'  She knew, she _knew!_  And she still stayed with my father.  Something is very peculiar about that, don't you think?"

"Angelina, how could you not know?  You're older than Nia by six years," Fred asked, confused.

"Cousin Malika said she needed to move back to the States to take care of Aunt Jamilah, but I guess she needed to have her child in secret," Angelina said, calming  from her crying episode.  "I cried like a baby when she left.  She was my best friend, took care of me when my parents were away."

"Did she have a 'father' before this?" he asked.

"I don't know.  I never saw a man around when I went to visit."

He sighed and squeezed her tighter.  "Angel, I think they didn't tell you two for a very good reason.  There was the Order, you know.  Was Malika in it as well?"

"I don't know; I never asked . . ." she trailed off, sitting straighter.

"Maybe you should.  That could have something to do with it."

"That _still_ does not change the fact they lied to me.  How do I go about trusting them again?" Angelina asked, falling against his chest.  

"I don't know, love, I don't know . . ."  

They sat together in silence, Fred continuously running his palm over her braids.

He snorted.  "And I thought _my_ family problems were bad."

"Oh yeah, did Percy stop by to see your father?"

"No.  The git even returned Mum's jumper.  If I never see him again, it will be too soon." 

"I know Percy's being a prick, but you can't mean that.  Family is important, and sooner or later Percy will realize that your parents are doing the right thing.  He's a Ministry rat right now; he knows no better," she reasoned.

"Like you said:  family is important.  If he can't abide by our beliefs and our stance, he's just as good as—"

"Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence, Frederick Weasley!  I don't want you to even _say_ it, because if it comes to pass, you'll be kicking yourself.  So don't.  Be upset, be angry, but _don't_ wish ill to your brother."  

He exhaled deeply.  "Fine, Angel.  But I _do _wish someone would pull the stick out of _his_ arse.  It's even farther up there than Hermione's!" he tried to joke.  

"That's an awful thing to say!"

"I suppose.  At least Ron got Hermione's out, if you catch my drift," he said with a smirk.  

Angelina sat up quickly.  "They _didn't!_"

"They _did_.  Apparently she kissed him first," Fred said, grinning.  "She's always been downright bossy, that one."

"Lord knows how Weasleys hate to be bossed around," she said dryly.

He lifted an eyebrow.  "I don't know about that, Angel.  Most of the women we Weasleys fall for have a bit of a bossy streak in them.  Look at my mum.  She's probably the bossiest woman I know, yet she's also the best mother we and wife Dad could've ever asked for."  

"Really now?  I distinctly remember you saying last year, 'Someone please commit me to St. Mungo's if I ever marry a woman as bossy as my mum!'  So clearly this does not apply to you."

He grinned.  "That's where you're wrong, Angel; it does apply to me."

Angelina snorted.  "How do you figure that?"

Fred smiled softly, cupping her cheek in his palm.  "I love you, don't I?"

Angelina's eyes went wide, and her breath caught.  "Co—come again?"

"Such naughty thoughts, Angel."

She gasped and slapped his arm.  "I thought no such thing!"

Fred laughed, his other hand cupping her cheek.  "Now, now, don't be shy.  I'm Fred, remember?  You never have to be shy with me."

"I also know you're a prankster, Fred.  You're just saying that to be nice because of my troubles.  You may love me, but only as a friend."

She moved her face from his hands, and he sighed.  "I know that it's hard for you to believe; I rarely have a serious conversation with anyone, but one day you will.  I'll see to that."  He moved his hand to grasp her jaw, moving her face back to his.  There was the distant sound of a clock ringing twelve tones.

It was midnight.

As if in a trance, he moved closer to her, slowly enough that she could pull away if she wanted.  He smiled when he realized she wouldn't, and his lips pressed against hers softly.  It was a tender kiss, not nearly as passionate as he would've liked, but he realized she was not ready for that.  He broke away, nuzzling her nose with his as he did.  She looked at him with those large brown eyes shining with tears.  He prayed they were happy tears.

"Happy New Year, my Angel," he whispered.

~~~~~~~~~

He felt something was wrong when she didn't say anything to him when they met each other.  He _knew_ something was wrong when she didn't say anything to Snape.

Draco was determined to find out what it was.  He'd been waiting all week to get a chance to speak with her, and he finally had it.  She was in the common room, bent heavily over books as her quill moved rapidly and purposefully.  He strode to her with confidence, knowing that once this conversation was over, she'd be her old self again. 

"What's wrong with you, Little One?  Didn't get what you wanted for Christmas?"

She did not say anything to him.

"Seriously, Nia.  I'm worried about you . . ."

"Imagine that, Malfoy worried about someone other than himself."

Draco couldn't help but jerk at the venom in her voice.  "What do you mean by that?"

"You know _exactly_ what I mean by that.  I see how you treat other people, especially Potter and his friends.  You're a regular punk."

"_What?_  What the _hell_ does that have to do with you right now?"

"I just don't want to talk to you or anyone  associated with _Slytherin_ right now.  Perhaps they were right—this House is associated with evil and the devil.  And in that case, so is Gryffindor.  I _hate_ this house, and I _hate_ them!"

Draco instinctively knew she'd stopped taking about him and Slytherins.  "What happened over break, Nia?  What happened?"

"I just really don't want to talk about it.  Please leave me alone, Draco."

He felt a little better when she called him by his given name.

"Perhaps you should go to Snape . . ."

She gave a bitter laugh.  "That is absolutely the _last_ person I want to see right now."

He frowned.  "But he's your fa—"

"Shut up, Malfoy!  Just _shut up!_"

"You're being rash, Nia!  What is wrong?"

"I need to leave.  I can't handle this right now," she said, collecting her things and leaving for her dorm room.  Draco growled and sighed.  He was no closer to finding out the truth now than he was before he talked with her, though he did find it odd she didn't want to talk to Snape.  They were close, and for her to refuse speaking with Snape left a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

"Trouble in paradise, I see."

Draco rolled his eyes at the sound of the voice.

"What do you want, Parkinson?'

"I'm hurt, Drakkie.  There was a time you'd call me Pansy."

"I think you slipped me some poison, then . . ."

"Oh bah!  I don't like you anymore, so stop worrying."

Draco didn't realize he'd tensed until he felt his body relax.

"Well, the question remains the same—what do you _want_?"

"To help, so to speak.  I know she means a lot to you, and I'd like to help you out."

Draco cocked an eyebrow at her.  "Right.  How much is this going to cost me?"

"How _dare_ you insinuate I'd require payment?"

"You are a Slytherin, and you are a Parkinson.  Those two go hand in hand with blackmail."

She huffed and shooed the words away with her hand.  "How can you think so ill of me, Draco, _especially_ when you were right along with me when I did those things?"

"I'm a Malfoy; I can say whatever the hell I want."

"Doesn't make it true . . ."

"With the right amount money, _anything_ can be made true."

"But seeing as your _father_ and not _you_ has the money, you really can't say much of anything at all."  

Draco scowled.  All she was serving to do was make his dark mood grow even fouler.

"What the _hell_ do you want, Parkinson?"

"If I get Roberts to talk, you owe me a Hogsmeade date."

"I thought you said you didn't like me anymore . . ."

"And _why_ does everything have to be about you?"

"I'm a god, of course."  

Pansy huffed again and glared at him.  "Look, _I _was the one who talked to Nia when you and she had that falling out.  It won't seem nearly as odd as you're making it out to be."

"But I'll bet you got something out of that—you spent a lot of time with Goyle . . . _oh!_"

Pansy blushed.  "Don't even think it, Draco!"

Draco couldn't help it; he gave a hearty guffaw that drew the attention of everyone in the common room.  Pansy turned pinker from embarrassment and anger.

"Oh, that's rich!  You two bicker more than the Mudblood and the Weasel!"

"So?"

"So . . . I didn't think he was your type.  You go for the pretty boys.  Why don't you want to date Blaise?"

"Him?  He's more in love with his mirror than anything else."

"Sounds like you two are a match made in heaven, then ."

"Very funny, Draco.  I'm not as shallow as I used to be."

"Getting a centimeter more depth does not a profound person make."  

"_Ooh,_ you can be such an arse at times!"

"I thought you rather liked my arse . . . I heard you and Millicent talking about it not too long ago in fact."

"Forget this!  I don't need you insulting me when I'm _trying_ to help you."

"As long as there's something in it for you."

"I'm a Slytherin!  What did you expect?"

"So is Nia; she's not like that."

"She's a fluke, then."

"I thought you were her friend.  _She_ at least considers you so . . ."

"That was her mistake."

Draco chuckled evilly.  "Another reason why you and Goyle wouldn't work—Nia _is_ Goyle's friend and vice versa.  You mess with her, you mess with him.  I wouldn't fancy being at the end of his fist coming full force towards me . . ."  

With one final glare and huff, Pansy stalked away from him.  

"Stank heffa."

Draco whirled in his seat.

"Nia!  You're back!"

"Oh, I was back around the time Pansy admitted to liking Goyle.  Poor boy."

"I'll say.  I wouldn't wish that on _Potter!_  Then again . . ."

She merely shrugged and went towards him.

He followed her progress with his eyes.  "Ready to talk now?"

"Nope.  I just came to get something I forgot."

"Are you ever going to tell me what's wrong?"

"I wouldn't hold my breath."

She was by him then, as she looked for whatever it was she lost.

"Ah!  Got it!" she exclaimed, putting the folded piece of paper in one of her robe pockets.  She made to leave.

"Wait!"

She hesitated.  "For what?"

"I'm sorry about Parkinson."

"What for?  She's not your responsibility.  Besides I think it's 'Lie to Nia' year.  She's not the first, nor will she be the last."  

"You're so bitter for one so young."

"Bitterness knows no age."

"Neither does wisdom, I see."

"Whatever, I'm tired.  I just need to be alone."  She started to walk away, but his hand stayed her.

"What do you want _now_?"

He didn't say anything as he pulled her into a hug.  She was very stiff at first, but the constant movement of his palm on her back made her pliant against him.  Her arms moved around him reluctantly as she gave in to the embrace.

"I won't lie to you, Little One," he promised.  "You mean too much to me to do that to you.  I'm here, okay?  If you ever need to talk."  The words were foreign even to his ears, but he realized he never said anything more sincere.

She squeezed him tight for a second before breaking the hug.  "Thank you, Draco, but I really need to sort this all out on my own.  I appreciate it.  Goodnight."

He watched her leave with her shoulders slumped and eyes to the floor.  He felt a violent sense of anger then; whoever had lied to her would pay dearly for taking his friend away from him.


	17. Sixteen

_Sixteen_

Severus looked at the students during dinner from his position at the Head Table.  He was under much stress—between Harry's Occlumency lessons, Death Eater meetings, classes, and Nia's unwillingness to speak to him, he barely had enough energy to chew.  He sighed, running his palm over his face.

"Are you well, Professor?" Dumbledore asked, concern in his voice.

"That's a fine question," he replied sarcastically.  "How would you feel if the child you raised refused to speak to you for a month?"

"Helpless, dejected, and rejected?" Dumbledore suggested with a wry smile. 

Severus closed his eyes and could not help but let out a slight chuckle.  "I guess you do know, then?"

"I raised my daughter by myself, Severus.  She ran off with someone I did not approve of, and she refused to speak for me for months.  Of course I know how you feel."

"Forgive me, Headmaster."

Dumbledore put a kindly hand on his shoulder and squeezed.  "She needs space.  After receiving that letter, Nia is going through a whole gamut of emotions she probably needs to sort out by herself."

"I wish I could help her; I wish I could explain . . ." Severus trailed off, his fork hovering over his plate.

"I know.  There is a reason Malika is doing it like this.  The less Nia knows, the safer she is."

"But we don't even know who Set 'is' now.  He could be anyone!  How do we know it's not Voldemort himself?" Severus whispered, noticing Umbridge looking pointedly in their direction.

"We definitely cannot talk about this now," Dumbledore said, following Severus's gaze.  "But I suggest you request an audience with Mr. Malfoy and Miss Johnson.  Maybe they can help you reach out to Nia." 

Severus nodded in compliance.  "That is a good idea, Headmaster.  I will do so immediately."  

He stood from the table, leaving his half-eaten dinner on his plate.  As he walked to the Gryffindor table, the Hall became quiet.  

_Nosy students!_

"Miss Johnson, a word, if you please?"

"What did I do?" she asked with a frown.  He noticed her surrounding housemates tense at his presence, one of the Weasley twins putting a protective arm around her shoulders.  

_Dear goodness, I'm not going to _eat_ the girl!_

"You did nothing wrong.  But I must speak with you . . ." he trailed off, not knowing how to put this delicately.  He finally settled on bluntness.  "This is about your sister."  There were gasps all around them; the Weasley boy glared at the other students.

Johnson looked concern.  "Is she all right?"

"This is not the place to discuss it," he said frankly.  "After dinner, meet me in the dungeons.  Pass this message on to Mr. Malfoy as well."  

He left the table and began to walk out, not before sparing a glance at Nia.  When he caught her eye, she immediately turned her attention to her plate.  His heart broke; there was the time when she would smile at him when their eyes met.  

_Oh Malika!  Surely there was another way to do this!_

"_You have a sister!_" Alicia hissed, once Snape left.

Angelina rolled her eyes, wishing Professor Snape never showed up at the table.

"Let her alone, Alicia."  Fred bent close to Angelina's ear.  "Are you all right?" 

"Peachy."

"I cannot _believe_ you didn't tell us you had a sister!" Alicia said, hurt.

"I can't very well tell you what I don't know," Angelina snapped.

"How could you not know you have a sister?  Is she older?" George asked.

"Parents lie," she said simply, stabbing her fork in her pork chop.

"Your parents don't lie; they're _perfect_," Lee quipped.

"I said drop it!" Fred seethed, looking pointedly at them.

"You're not the least bit surprised?" Katie asked, then her eyes widened.

"You told _Fred?_" Alicia gasped.  "_Fred_ knows, and he didn't say _anything?"  _ She turned to Katie and bent to her ear.  "Boy, he's whipped."

"Don't think I didn't hear that, Spinnet; I'm not deaf!" 

"Don't attack her!  I thought we tell each other everything," George said.

"This had nothing to do with me!  This is Angelina and her life, and if she wanted to tell you guys sooner, she would've!" Fred all but shouted.

"And what does Malfoy have to do with any of—_ooh!_" Lee said, putting two and two together.  "Oh dear Merlin.  _She's _your sister?"

Angelina stared at her plate, but her voice belied her seriousness.  "I swear to God, Lee, you say one thing outside her name, and I will hex you into the middle of next week."

Katie frowned in confusion.  "I thought she was your cousin?"

"She's both."

Four pairs of eyes went wide.

"Damn, that's heavy stuff.  How did you find out?" George asked, actually concerned.  

"I don't want to talk about it," Angelina mumbled.

"Just like a Slytherin—pretending to be one thing when they're really another.  No wonder their house mascot is a snake," Lee sneered.  

Angelina's hand shot across the table, goblets knocked over as her hand grabbed the collar of Lee's robes.

"Angelina!" Katie screamed, trying to remove the other Chaser's hands from him.

"_Don't. _Talk_. About. Her. Like. That!"_ she seethed through clenched teeth.  "You have _no_ _idea_ what it's been like for her!  She didn't know any sooner than I did!  Her _entire life_ has been a lie, and all you can do is sit there and think about her _House affiliation!_"

"Angel, love, you're creating a scene," Fred whispered, trying to pull her back down.  She looked around and noticed everyone was staring at her.

"I'm not hungry anymore," she announced.  She let go of Lee's robes slowly and left the Gryffindor table, making her way to the Slytherin one.  She tried to lock eyes with Nia, but hers were downcast.  Angelina closed her eyes briefly, before turning her attention to Malfoy.

"Snape wants to speak with us," she said flatly.  She watched Malfoy's eyes flit from her to Nia.

"Are you going to be all right?" he asked the younger girl.

Nia nodded her head.

"Let's go," he said, standing from his place and walking before her out the Hall.  Angelina was well aware of the stares they were receiving, but she did not care.  They walked in silence for a few moments.

"What happened between you and Nia over the holiday?" he asked point blank.

"Don't waste any time, do you?"

"Look, my friend is moping around and not talking to anyone, and I know she spent the holiday with you.  _What happened?_" he asked again.  She stopped walking.  "What?"

"You really care about her, don't you?"

Draco rolled his eyes.  "They never said Gryffindors had to be bright."  

"I'm glad you're her friend, Draco."

He stopped walking and turned back to face her.

"I never thought I'd hear you say anything remotely nice to me," he said honestly.  

Angelina grinned and started to walk again.  Draco waited until she caught up with him and fell into step with her.  "Never thought I'd hear me say anything nice to you, either, but never say never, hmm?"

Draco frowned.  "I don't like her so quiet.  We're usually in a battle of wits, or she's teaching me about Muggle America.  Now she just walks around like a zombie, and I hate it."

"She received some heavy news, and she's dealing with it this way," Angelina said cryptically.

"You think this is why Snape wants to see us?"

Angelina nodded.  

"How heavy could this news be?" he asked, as they walked into Snape's office.  They found Severus flipping through some sort of book; as they walked closer, they realized it was a photo album.  They approached the desk, and saw the pictures upside down.

"Who is she?" Draco asked, watching the woman who looked eerily like Nia.  

"That's Cousin Malika, Nia's mum," Angelina said softly, moving around the desk to look at the photos upright.  "How is it you have these pictures, Professor?"

Malika was smiling and waving happily at the camera.  As Snape flipped through the book, Angelina realized some of the pictures showed both Malika and Snape with their arms around each other—in some, they were even kissing.

"We were married," Severus said quietly, looking at Angelina as she ran her fingers over the photos.

Angelina's mouth dropped open in surprise.  "Has Nia seen these?"  She scanned the pages in wonder.  

"Not yet.  I don't know if she'd want to see them now."  

"I didn't know you and Cousin Malika were married," Angelina murmured.  "I never saw you when we visited."

"You always came when I had to be back at Hogwarts," Severus explained.

"Why couldn't Nia take your last name, then?  You were married to her mother, and you're her father, aren't you?" Draco asked.

Angelina looked at Snape, before turning to Draco.  "She's my sister."

"I don't understand . . ."

"I am not her biological father, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said lowly.

Draco felt he'd been slapped.  "Oh _shit!_"

"Language, Mr. Malfoy."

"That's why she's so sad!  How could her mother _do_ such a thing!?" Draco said angrily.

"Do _not_ speak of my late wife that way, Mr. Malfoy."

"She cheated on you, tried to pass off the kid as yours, and you're _defending _her?" Draco asked, incredulous.  "I'd be cheesed off!"

"I knew from the beginning Nia wasn't my biological daughter, but I've adopted her, and I've raised her as my child.  She _is_ mine—lack of blood relation is of no consequence," Snape said silkily.

"I understand, Professor."

"Now, what I would like you to do is try to talk to her, reach out to her.  She shouldn't be moping around like she is; I know her mother wouldn't want her to do that." 

"Professor, why did Malika do this?  Why did all of you keep the secret for so long?" Angelina asked, an expression of hurt on her face.

Snape took her hand and patted it gently.  "We had to do it to keep her safe—both of them."

"Keep her safe from _what?_" Malfoy asked, panic in his voice.

"Forces you couldn't even begin to understand."

"You mean . . .You-Know-Who?" Angelina gasped.

"She'd be lucky if she had Potter's problem, but hers is far worse.  He knows she exists now; I think he always did, but he had to wait," Snape murmured, seemingly to himself.

"He _who?_" Angelina asked.

"Wait for _what?_" Malfoy asked at the same time.

"I must go.  The Headmaster should know of this."  Snape stood and left quickly.

Angelina glanced at Malfoy, fear on her face, and sank into the chair Snape just vacated.  She looked in the photo album again where one photo caught her eye.  It was a photo of the Order.  Malika was in it, standing next to her parents and Snape.

"They were in the Order," Angelina murmured.

"What did you say?" Malfoy asked.

"Nothing, nothing," she stuttered, closing the album hurriedly.

Malfoy rolled his eyes.  "You Gryffindors can be so absent-minded at times."

Angelina sighed, placing her elbow on the table and resting her forehead in her hand.  "This is a bigger problem that mixed paternity."

"You think?  Snape said Nia needed to be kept safe!"

"But he wouldn't tell us from what . . ."

"Do you think that's the reason Nia won't speak to us? She doesn't want to endanger us with her problems?" 

Angelina shrugged.  "It's a possibility, but then why wouldn't she talk to Snape about it?"

"Well, how do you address someone you thought was your father for twelve years, then find out he really isn't?" Malfoy asked sardonically.

Angelina nodded in understanding.  "Okay, this is what we should do.  You work on Nia and find out anything at all—I think she'd be more inclined to talk to you now anyway.  I'll ask my parents if they can tell me anything else."

"You actually trust a Slytherin?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"I know you care about her, and she cares about you.  You'll do anything to help her," she said surely.

"She's like a sister to me."

"And she _is_ a sister to me.  I'll do anything I can to keep her safe, even if it makes her not speak to me for the rest of my life."


	18. Seventeen

_Seventeen_

"It's all right, Ron.  I understand perfectly."

He groaned and rolled his eyes.  _No, you _don't_ understand; no matter how much you tried to say otherwise.  _

"If you understand so well, why won't you look at me?"  She shifted and met his eyes with hers.  They were filled with unshed tears.  "Hermione—"

"Ron!  I said I understand.  You don't have to say anything, really."

He scooted closer to her and gently grasped her chin with his thumb and forefinger.  "You know if I had a choice, I'd go to Hogsmeade with you, don't you?"

"Yes, Ron.  I told you I understood.  We're just friends, anyway."

Ron felt his heart clench at that.  _Yeah . . . just two friends who snogged each other senseless over the holidays._

"I promise I won't have any fun at Quidditch practice.  In fact I don't know why Angelina won't find a replacement as it is."

"You mean a lot to the team, Ron.  They need you there.  As I said before, I understand.  I'm hoping to meet someone at the Three Broomsticks anyway."

He felt his cheeks heat in anger.  "Who?"

She narrowed her eyes at him.  "Since when did you find it proper that I tell _you_ everything that went on in my life?  As I remember, you told me to stay out of _yours_." 

_Damn her for having a memory like an elephant._

"I didn't mean that; I said it in the heat of the moment," he said in defense.  "Besides, Hermione, that happened _weeks_ ago!  I'm surprised you remember!"

She raised an eyebrow at him.  "Clearly you don't know me at all!"

That was the most irrational response he'd ever heard from Hermione.  "Pardon?  What does that have to do with anything?"

"Of course I'd remember!  How else does one learn if they don't remember?"

_Leave it to her to bring up school in a discussion like this._

"Hermione, please, I promise I'll make it up to you," he tried, letting go of her chin to caress her cheek.  She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, and Ron smiled.

_Maybe she's coming around._

"Do you even know what tomorrow is?"

_Oh damn._

"It's the Hogsmeade trip," Ron guessed.

Hermione rolled her eyes and moved her face from his hand.

_Maybe she's _not_ coming around._

"Look around you, Ron!  For what other holiday do you see cupids and pink hearts everywhere?"

_Valentine's Day.  Oh damn._

"I didn't notice," he mumbled.

"You don't notice a lot of things, Ron."

"That's not true!"

"Then _why_ did it take _Neville _to make you realize I was a girl?!"

He gulped and backed away from her.  "You were just Hermione, my friend."

"And I'm _still_ just Hermione, your friend.  What happened over holiday doesn't change anything."

_But I want them to change._

"You kissed me first," he reminded her.

"Heat of the moment.  I was trying to cheer you up."

_You bloody well _did '_cheer' something 'up'!_

His cheeks turned red at the memory.

"Are you all right, Ron?"  She placed cool hands on his face, and all thought fled from his mind.  

"Do you go around snogging every boy who feels sad?" he asked finally, his voice having a jealous edge to it.

"I've kissed Harry before."

Ron's eyes bugged out.  "You _WHAT?"_

He cursed then, noticing the entire common room had turned their attention on them.  "Nothing to see here!" he seethed, glaring at his nosy housemates.

"Oh Ron!  You were there!  Remember last year at the platform as we were leaving?  I kissed his cheek!"

_Whew._

"Besides, what's it to you?  You were so far gone over _Fleur_ I'm surprised you even care who _I_ kissed."

He grinned in spite of himself.

_Hermione jealous?  It's a beautiful thing, really.  Her eyes flash, and her cheeks become rosy.  Those full red lips draw into a luscious pout as an eyebrow arches.  Mmmm . . ._

"Ron!"

"Huh?"

"You're salivating, Ron."

_Shit.  _

He quickly wiped his mouth, and he glanced at her.  Her face mirrored her disgust.

"I cannot believe you have the audacity to drool over Fleur."

"I _wasn't_ drooling over Fleur, Hermione."

She arched an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms over her chest.  "We were _just_ talking about her, Ron.  I'm not daft, you know."

"I know you're not.  I think you're brilliant."

"Humph."

"If a bit irrational . . ."

Hermione huffed, springing off the couch and marching up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.  Ron sighed wearily and dropped his head against the back of the couch.  He closed his eyes and placed a hand over them.

_That was a bloody mess!_

"What did you do _this time, _Ron?"

"Sod off, Harry," he said, not bothering to look at the other boy.

There was a moment of silence, and Ron felt the couch sink from Harry's weight.

"She likes you, you know."

Ron gave a short bark of laughter.  "She sure has a loopy way of showing it.  Even after all we've been through, she insists we're friends.  Let me tell you something, mate, friends don't kiss the way we did over holiday."

"Why don't you tell her that?"

Ron opened his eyes and looked at Harry as if he grew another head.  "Are you mad!?  I don't fancy a hex from Hermione, thank you very much!"

Harry grinned.  "But you _do_ fancy a snog from her."

Ron scowled, moving his mouth as he silently mocked what Harry just said.

"You're not in Gryffindor for nothing!  Buck up some courage and just tell her how you feel."

Ron snorted.  "Easy for you to say, seeing as you _have_ a girlfriend!"

Harry sighed.  "She's not my girlfriend . . . actually I don't know _what_ she is . . ."

Ron became curious.  For the better part of two years, Cho had been Harry's crush.  Now that they were all but officially dating, he seemed reluctant.  "Oi, Harry, what's this?  I thought you _wanted_ her to be your girlfriend."

Harry shrugged.  "I thought I did, too.  But that was before Cedric . . . before Voldemort . . . before . . ."

Ron knew there was something else Harry was not telling him.  "Is there someone else?"  

"Sort of . . ."

Ron tapped his chin in thought.  He raised an amused eyebrow.  "Is it Loony?"

"_Ron_ . . ."

"Ginny, then.  Is it her?"

Harry frowned.  "She's all but a sister to me!  That would be gross!"

Ron didn't know if he should be relieved or angry.  Shrugging, he tried again.  "D'you like this person?"

"It's more complicated than that."

Ron's heart leapt into his throat.  "Is it Hermione?"

"It's not _that_ complicated!" Harry teased.  

Ron couldn't help it—he laughed loudly, his relief flooding through him like a tidal wave.  "Dear Merlin, that was close," he said after he calmed.

Harry smiled softly, though it didn't reach his eyes.  "Though admittedly, I wish it _were_ that complicated.  At least the attraction would make sense."

"I don't follow . . ."

"When I'm with her, Ron, I feel warm.  I'm the safest I've ever been, and I can let my guard down.  It feels good—really good.  I don't have to be Harry Potter; I can just be Harry."

"Do me and Hermione treat you like Harry Potter?" he asked, slightly hurt.  Harry looked down at his hands, not willing to answer.

"Blimey, Harry—"

"Look, Ron, it's not your fault.  Everybody does it at one point or another—even _Dumbledore_ seems a bit awed by me at times.  It makes me uncomfortable.  I don't like the special treatment; I didn't _ask_ to be the Boy Who Lived.  But I am.  But sometimes I wish I could just be a _boy_."

It was then Ron realized the tremendous amount of pressure Harry had to endure just for being who he was.  Ron felt sad and guilty; throughout their friendship he'd wrestled with jealousy issues of being Harry's friend.  Now, he realized he wouldn't trade places with Harry for the world.

"Harry, I know I'm sorry for treating you like that, and I'm sure Hermione is, as well." 

Harry clapped him on the shoulder appreciatively.  "Don't worry about it, mate.  You're a good friend, Ron.  I couldn't ask for anyone better."

Ron smiled.  "Fate's a crazy thing, isn't it?"  He saw Harry tense.  "Are you all right?  It's not your scar, is it?"

"Fate . . ." Harry murmured, pressing his fingers to his scar.

Ron began to panic.  "Look, maybe you should—"

"That may be able to explain the dreams I've been having," Harry said absently.

"I thought that's what you were taking the Occlumency lessons for—to stop those dreams—though I personally think Snape is—"

"That would explain why they look so much alike—same eyes . . ."

"What _are_ you on about?"

"Have to go, Ron.  If I hurry I can get to the library and back before curfew."  Harry stood quickly.

"You're starting to sound like Hermione!" Ron teased.

"You'd do well to make a trip there, as well, Ronald Weasley.  That way you'd have a chance of making at least an Acceptable on your O.W.L.s."

Ron started when he heard Hermione behind him, and Harry tried to smother a laugh.  Ron glared at him before addressing Hermione.

"Bugger, woman!  Something could be wrong with Harry's scar, and all you can think about is O.W.L.s!"

"There's nothing wrong with my scar, Hermione," Harry answered quickly.

"Are you sure?"

Harry looked at them with a grin.  "Positive.  Now you two kiss and make up; this _is_ the holiday for lovers . . ."  Harry winked at them before he left the common room.

Ron scowled at his retreating back.  "That boy's cracked."

Hermione snorted.  "I don't think he's going to the library at all.  He's going to see Cho."

"At least _he's_ getting some loving," Ron muttered.

"I'm sure your _broom_ will get all the loving it needs by this time tomorrow."

Ron gaped at her.  "_Hermione!_  Do you realize what you just said?"

"What?"  She almost looked innocent, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"I've corrupted you," he said with feigned remorse.

She grinned at him, and his heart kicked over.  "You wouldn't have me any other way."

His eyes widened even more as he watched her approach him and pat his cheek before walking past him to talk to his sister.  Ron grinned.

She was right—he wouldn't have her any other way.


	19. Eighteen

_Eighteen_

"You're not your father, you know."

Whether or not he heard her, she did not know, for he did not turn to acknowledge her. She wrapped her cloak around her to ward off the chill as she climbed the steps of the Quidditch pitch. She'd seen him leave dinner, and she knew he'd be out here; she remembered Nia telling her he went there when he was upset. She sat down beside him.

"I'm _definitely_ not one of your brothers' favorite people now, am I?" he asked sardonically.

A week ago the latest edition of _The Quibbler_ came out, and in it was an expose of Voldemort's return. In the article Harry named all of the Death Eaters that were present—one of which was Draco's father.

"Not so much, no."

"And not Potter's either."

Ginny didn't say anything, only gazed at him through sad eyes.

"You know I saw him the day it came out in the library. I was with Crabbe, Nott, and Goyle. And he looked at us with that_ stupid_ smug look on his face, because he named our fathers as You-Know-Who's followers. Goyle cracked his hands ready to pound him, but I told him to back off. No need to really make him gloat," he sneered.

"That doesn't mean I think any less of you," Ginny said, putting her hand on his knee.

Draco turned to her then. "You shouldn't be out here; you shouldn't be seen with the son of a Death Eater. You're the sister of a member of the Golden Trio. Imagine the scandal."

"_I'm_ the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets; a romance with you will seem mild in comparison," she said wryly.

Draco scoffed at that. "I knew my father was evil. I've been bred in such a way that I can't help but know he was evil. But for him to be a Death Eater just makes it . . . I don't know . . . _real_."

She squeezed his knee, and Draco covered her hand with his. "I'm here for you, Draco. You know that."

"At least someone is," he muttered.

Ginny frowned. "What do you mean?"

Draco shook his head. "Everyone's treating me like _I'm_ a Death Eater, as if I had some influence over You-Know-Who. Either that or they're afraid I'm going to hex them, which I probably would."

Ginny frowned. "Even Nia?"

Draco looked downcast. "_Especially _Nia. I know she has her own problems, and this little article _probably_ doesn't make me a likely candidate for her to talk to me . . ."

"She needs to talk to _someone_. Angelina's been beside herself. You know she almost burst into tears during one of our Quidditch practices . . . although that was partly because of Ron's dreadful keeping . . ."

Draco chuckled. "Weasley is _indeed_ our king."

Ginny shoved him playfully. "That's my brother you're talking about!"

"You started it!"

She smiled at him, running her palms on his cheeks. They were flushed from the cold, and his skin was warm. Draco closed his eyes and leaned into her caress.

"Thank you for being out here with me," Draco murmured, opening his eyes and looking into hers. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"Nia told me a while back you came out here when something was bothering you. I figured this was where you'd go when I saw you leave the Hall."

"So you're spying on me now, hmm?"

Ginny snorted. "Don't sound so smug."

"Who wouldn't be smug if they had someone as beautiful as you watching them?" he said with a grin.

Ginny felt her cheeks heat at that, but she returned his grin. "I mean really, Draco, you're the sexiest guy in this school, after all."

Draco laughed. "You're laying it on pretty thick there, Little Weasel."

"You're going to call me that still?" she pouted.

Draco shook his head, trailing a finger down her cheek as he brushed a stray lock away from it. He tucked the lock behind her ear, all the while gazing intently into her brown eyes. "No, Virginia, I won't call you that anymore," he whispered.

She made a face. "Why do you insist on calling me 'Virginia,' Draco."

"How about Virgin?" he snickered.

Ginny gaped at him, slapping his knee. "Don't you _dare_ call me that!"

"Why not? You are, aren't you?" he asked, sidling up next to her.

Ginny forgot about the cold as he got closer, his body heat warming her insides. "That's not any of your business."

He got closer still, rubbing his nose at her temple. "True, but, it may very well be, no?" He pressed his lips against her temple.

Ginny closed her eyes, not believing what he dared insinuate. "I can't believe you just said that," she breathed as his lips blazed a trail to her ear. She tilted her head to give him better access.

"Yes, you can; you just don't want to believe I said it."

"You're such an arrogant prick."

"No. That would be Potter." Ginny shot him a reproachful look. "I speak truth, and you know it."

"He's still my friend," she muttered, her eyes dragging shut again a he pressed kisses along her jaw. "Oh Draco . . ."

"Hmmm?" he rumbled against her skin. Ginny shivered and not from cold. "What shall I call you then, hmm? You won't let me call you by Little Weasel so let's see . . . how about Ginger?"

"Ginger?" she asked, pulling her chin down, effectively placing her mouth mere inches from his.

He smirked.

She gulped.

"Yes, Ginger. For your hair. And because of your spiciness." He placed a chaste kiss on her lips.

Ginny's eyes fluttered at the contact. "My father says I'm sweet," Ginny pouted again.

Draco grinned and kissed her pouting lips lightly again. "Sugar and spice . . . you're most definitely not lacking on the spice," he murmured against her lips.

"You say the sweetest things," she said dryly.

Draco laughed and hugged her, a gesture that surprised Ginny more than his kisses.

"Thank you, Ginger," he whispered in her ear.

"You're welcome, Draco." She hugged him tightly. "You are aware I'll still have to hex you if you're mean to my brothers and my friends."

"I'll know you do it out of affection."

"And, my real first name is Ginevra, not Virginia."

He said nothing for a moment, then smirked. "Something tells me the 'Virgin' name is still accurate, though."

He laughed as Ginny slapped his shoulder again before they pulled apart, and Draco kissed her forehead. "Come, I'm freezing my arse off. Let's go inside." They left the pitch and walked arm in arm back to the castle, both appreciative of the new friendship forming between them.

ssssssssssss

"Just so you know, you will not be leaving this office until you say something."

Nia rolled her eyes, not really caring what happened. She had nothing to say to the men before her. They had lied to her all her life, and she was mad.

"Nia, please. Talk to us. I know it's been a hard few weeks for you, but you have to say _something_!"

"I ain't got ta say diddly," she snapped, her drawl more pronounced.

"Little One—"

"Don't! I don't wanna hear it! You lost your right to call me that weeks ago!" she said, deadly calm. She still didn't meet their eyes, instead choosing to stare into the fire.

"Nia, please—"

"Give her time, Severus."

"My daughter is hurting!"

"Actually, she's _my_ daughter . . ."

"Not according to the courts—"

Nia's eyes began to water at that.

"I'm _mama's daughter_," she said icily. "And that's only because she gave birth to me." She heard a rustling behind her as Severus came to kneel before her, his hands on her knees.

"Nia, look at me."

She continued to look above his head, a tear falling from her eyes. Nia made no move to wipe it away, wanting him to see how hurt and confused she was.

"There is a reason we kept your paternity from you," he said sadly.

"Right. Because you're ashamed of me. I'm not really your daughter, but you wanted to keep on pretending that I was. Now I know why you were never around when Angelina and her parents came, because you'd be in the same room as my 'father.'"

Severus breathed deeply, dropping his head. "We are not ashamed of you," he ground out.

"Well, maybe not you, but I'm sure Caleb is," she said coolly.

She heard a groan from behind her.

"Nia, I am _not_ ashamed of you," he said wearily.

"That's what you do when you get something you don't want. You give it away, pretend like it doesn't exist. Only bring it out on the occasions when the person who gave it to you comes to visit. Except in your case, you did the visiting."

"That is not fair . . ." Caleb began.

"Right. _Fair_. You thought it was fair to deny me who I am. No _wonder_ I took my mother's maiden name! I couldn't take Professor Snape's because he's not my father, and I couldn't take _yours_ because I'm proof of your adulterous actions with my mother!"

"Nia . . ." Severus warned.

"You thought it was just going to be a roll in the hay, didn't you? You didn't even think that _maybe_ she could get pregnant and have _evidence_ of your inability to keep it in your pants—"

"NIA!"

She looked at Severus then and saw the pain in his eyes. She began to cry, wrapping her arms around him. "You're a victim in this too," she cried into his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not your daughter. I wanted to be, but I should've known. I knew I was too dark, but I wanted it anyway so I put it out of my mind."

"This is not your fault. It's not your fault," he murmured, tears in his voice.

"It _is_ my fault! _I'm_ the one who made Angelina stop talking to her parents! _I'm_ the one who made the hate appear in her eyes when she looked at me. I broke her home! She's not going to want to speak to me again!"

"Little One, she wants to speak to you. She's been trying ever since we returned to school," Severus informed her.

"Besides, she's more upset with me than she is at anyone. She's not angry at you, Nia," Caleb said, trying to reassure her.

Nia ignored him, not wanting to hear him speak.

"Did you hear what he said?" Severus asked, noticing her lack of a response.

"Yeah, I heard him," she muttered, pulling away from Severus.

"I know this is hard for you, but please talk to someone about this. If not me or Caleb, then Dumbledore, or Angelina—"

"I'm still not ready to face her," Nia interrupted.

"Or Mr. Malfoy, perhaps?"

"_MALFOY!_ What the _hell_ is she doing talking to a MALFOY!?" Caleb bellowed, standing quickly and walking in front of her.

"None of your business," she sassed and crossed her arms in front of her.

"It _is _my business! You are my daughter!"

"Not by choice."

Caleb jerked back as if he'd been slapped, and Nia felt guilty, but not guilty enough to apologize.

"Clearly Leka did not explain all you needed to know in that letter. Perhaps it's time you know the circumstances surrounding your conception and birth," he said quietly.

_Circumstances?_

"No! It is _not_ the time," Severus disagreed.

"I can't stand to see her mad at me, Severus! There was a time she loved my visits with her sister and stepmother . . ."

Nia closed her eyes at the realization that Cousin Elle was now in fact her stepmother as well. She'd never even thought about that new connection; it was too much to handle.

"Well right now, I can't really much look at you. It's hard to realize your father didn't want you."

"It's not like that . . ." Caleb trailed.

"Isn't it? How _easily _you gave me up to someone else to raise, though my mother romantically thought otherwise? You loved Angelina so much, but you couldn't stand the sight of me."

"Malika and Severus were love, engaged to be married," Caleb said, trying to explain things to her.

"So you and my mother decided to betray your spouse's and fiancée's trust for a little fling that resulted in me," she said acidly.

"IT WAS A MISTAKE! IT SHOULD'VE NEVER HAPPENED!" Caleb yelled.

Nia jumped back from the sheer force of it.

"Get the _hell_ out of my office, Johnson. Now. Don't you _ever_ yell at my daughter again."

Severus stood from his crouched position very slowly, his eyes never straying from the man before him. His voice had been calm, but there was an underlying surge of anger beneath it.

Caleb looked at her plaintively. "I'm sorry, Nia—"

"OUT! GET OUT!" Severus roared and pointed to the door roughly, losing control. Nia shot up and ran out of the room, ignoring her fathers' calls for her to come back. She ran blindly, not having a particular direction but knowing she did not want to be found. Nia went outside; she had no cloak to protect her from the cold. She tripped on a snow-covered rock and fell, the snow seeping into her flimsy robe and uniform. There she cried. She did not care if she was in the snow, freezing, or dearly close to catching a cold.

"NIA! Nia, are you all right?" she heard and felt someone place a hand on her back. Nia's sniffles lessened, but she still did not lift her head. She felt the person lift her up and wrap a cloak around her.

"No, take it back. You need your cloak," she muttered, trying to take it off of her shoulders.

"That's why you're the one shivering," the voice said dryly.

She looked up and noticed it was Draco and Ginny, both red from the cold. Draco had his cloak around her, and Ginny was caressing her hair.

"What's wrong, Nia? Are you hurt?" Ginny asked.

"No. Apparently I'm a mistake," she said bitterly.

"Who told you that?"

"My _father_."

"Snape!" Draco exclaimed.

"No, the other one."

"I'm not even going to ask," Ginny said, putting up her hands in surrender. "Let's just get inside and get warm."

Draco helped Nia walk into the castle with Ginny in tow.

"What in Merlin's name were you doing outside like that, anyway?" Draco asked as they walked down the corridor.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Nia mumbled, snuggling closer to Draco's warmth.

Ginny looked at her sadly. "Look, I need to go back to Gryffindor Tower, but we need to talk. You've been avoiding me and Angelina for the past month and a half. She's worried sick about you."

Nia looked regretful. "Tell her I'm sorry, okay? I just thought that she wouldn't want to talk to me."

"She loves you, you know? You're family," Ginny said.

Nia nodded, giving the older girl a hug. "Thank you."

"No problem. You're my friend; that's what friends do, Nia," Ginny said. They parted, and Ginny began walking to the tower.

"Where's my hug?" Draco asked, extending his arms wide.

Ginny rolled her eyes at Nia and continued walking. "I don't know, but as soon as you find it, let me know, okay?" She grinned lecherously and winked.

Draco huffed and looked at Nia, a scowl forming on his face. "Wipe that smirk off your face," he muttered, bringing her back to his side and wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

"You is _whuuuppped!_" she sang, chuckling as he tried to tickle her side.

"It's good to hear you laugh again." He kissed her temple.

"I've been a bit of a punk, haven't I?" she asked shyly.

"No, of course not." Nia smiled at him. "You've been a lot of a punk!"

Nia stopped walking and gaped at him. Draco turned and walked backwards, a challenge in his eyes.

"_Oooh!_ You gon' get it now!" she exclaimed and began to run for him. Draco laughed and started running as well, turning around the corner on the way to the dungeons.

_Stupid boy, have to be so dang tall with those long legs of his . . . _

"Miss Roberts?"

Nia stopped dead in her tracks, turning slowly towards the sound of the voice. There was Dumbledore, in purple robes with gold smiley-faced crescent moons, looking at her over his half-moon glasses—eyes twinkling.

_Oh good, they're twinkling_.

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"Is there any reason why you're running like Atalanta in the hallways?"

She looked sheepish. "Chasing after Draco, Headmaster."

"Having fun?"

Nia was glad he couldn't see her blush. "No?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "May I speak with you, Nia?" he asked, dropping formalities. She nodded and followed him to the gargoyles that guarded his office.

"Peppermint," he said with a wink to Nia. She grinned and stepped on the spiral staircase as it made its way to his office.

Dumbledore opened the door, and Nia stepped inside. He pointed to a seat near the fireplace, and she sat, her feet dangling from the couch. Dumbledore sat opposite her and formed his hands into a steeple.

"Am I in trouble, Headmaster?"

"Headmaster? Whatever happened to Grandpa Albus?"

"While I may have been fooled to thinking Professor Snape was my father, I'm not foolish enough to believe you're my grandfather," Nia said on a nervous laugh.

Dumbledore gave a half-smile. "You're not foolish, Little One, for you are quite right. I am not you grandfather."

"Exactly. So why did Mama call you Great-Grandpa Albus in her letter to me?"

"Because I _was_ her great-grandpa."

"That's impossible," Nia scoffed. "That would mean you're my great-great grandfather!"

"Ten points to Slytherin."

"But that's impossible!"

"Nothing's impossible, my dear."

"I'm tired. I've been climbing way too many family trees . . ."

Dumbledore laughed heartily. "You come from a family of greatness, my dear. There were many trying to be a part of it."

"Is it too late to revoke my membership?"

He chuckled. "I wouldn't be so quick to do that," he warned. He stood and went to the bookshelf, pulling a red leather book from it and handing it to her. "Here is a book from your great-great grandmother, Asenath. It will explain some things to you."

"_Gods and Goddesses Through the Ages,_" she read aloud. "I don't see how this has anything to do with me."

Dumbledore peered at her above his lenses. "Read, and the Sight will become clear."


	20. Nineteen

_Nineteen_

The Transfiguration classroom seemed to follow its name, going from a loud, rambunctious room during the day to a quiet, serene one after hours.

"I didn't think you'd come."

"Yeah, Ginny all but cornered me earlier today. I figure I'd have to confront this sooner or later. Might as well be now. Besides, I have to go to the library after this anyway."

"Confront? You're my sister, not my enemy."

"That wasn't the impression I got when we first found out . . ."

Angelina inhaled deeply. "About that—"

"How have you been?" Nia asked quietly. 

Angelina looked at her a moment before answering. "I've been sad, because I haven't spoken with my sister since term started." 

Nia let out her breath in a _whoosh_ and sat down at a desk. "You _are_ a seventh year, and in a different house . . ."

"That never stopped us from meeting before."

"I just—I just wasn't ready to face you. Especially after what Cal—I mean Dad—I mean what my _father_ said."

Angelina frowned. "What did he say?"

"He said I was a mistake."

"_What?_"

"Ask Professor Snape; he was there."

"Please tell me our father didn't say that . . ."

"Wish I could, but I can't."

"But surely you know I don't think that . . ."

"Like I said, you were pretty upset with me when we found out."

"It was my first reaction."

"Those are usually the most honest."

Angelina looked at her in awe. "When did you become so wise?"

"That's not wise. That's something my grandma told me," Nia said with a grin. "If she _is_ my grandma. At this rate I wouldn't be surprised if I were adopted. Oh, wait. I _was . . ."_

"You are my sister, Nia. I love you. I'll admit the news was a bit of a shock, but I was more upset at my parents for keeping the secret from us. You're just a much safer target for my frustration."

"And yet the one who's probably suffered the most."

Angelina looked guilty. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too."

"It's not your fault, Nia."

"It feels like it is."

Angelina sat down next to her and put an arm around Nia's shoulders. She tensed before leaning into the embrace.

"I've missed you," Nia admitted.

"Me as well, love, me as well."

They hugged each other. "This is a bit uncomfortable with the desk in the way . . ."

Angelina laughed heartily. "Leave it to you to ruin a tender moment."

"Too much fluff makes me ill."

"You sound just like your father," Angelina laughed.

"Caleb?"

Angelina immediately stopped laughing. "Actually . . . I was thinking Professor Snape . . ."

"You _know?_"

She nodded. "He called Draco and me to talk. He was flipping through a photo album."

"What photo album?"

Angelina sighed. "It's a photo album from before you were born. Mom, Dad, Cousin Malika—they were all in it. They looked so happy . . ."

"And I had to go and ruin it."

"Did Malika and Professor Snape ever have problems as far as you knew?"

"No. But then again they never argued in front of me. Mama would give him the silent treatment whenever she was angry, though. That was an art she learned from Grandma. It drove him crazy!"

"I'm sure it did!" Angelina laughed.

"I think Mama was sad he had to be England for most of the year while we were stuck in the States. I often asked why we couldn't come over here, but she would always change the subject."

"She moved back to South Carolina right before you were born. She said it was to help Aunt Jamilah, but I think it had something to do with you."

"I'm sure it did."

"No, I don't mean like that. I mean, there's something more to this story than we know."

"That's a given, Angie."

"Has Snape told you anything else?"

"No. He said something about it not being the time."

Angelina frowned. "Time? Time for what?"

"I don't know; I'm afraid to know."

"I'll be there for you, Nia. You don't have to go through this alone."

Nia smiled at her. "Thanks, Big Sis."

"I like that coming from you," Angelina said.

"You say that now."

They laughed, and Nia stood. "Library time?" Angelina asked.

"Yup. Gotta do some research."

"On what?"

"History."

Angelina groaned. "Oh dear. Professor Binns is an absolute bore. I'm glad I don't have to suffer through that class anymore."

"I have a feeling this particular assignment won't nearly be so dull."

"I hope so, for your sake," Angelina said, shrugging.

They stood and walked out of the classroom.

"So, we're good now?" Nia asked.

"We're good. I mean it. You're not alone in this; I'm right there with you."

"I know." Nia hugged her again. "Good luck getting the Quidditch Cup, by the way."

"From your mouth to Merlin's ears, Nia."

"Do you need me to yell?"

"No. If he answered my silent wish to make up with you, I'm sure he'll answer yours, as well." 

Fifth year had officially been shot to hell.

Harry groaned as he plopped in the chair at a secluded table in the library. Snape had just yelled him out of his latest and last Occlumency lesson, and Harry didn't know whether to be relieved or fearful. Not that he was making much progress anyway—the dreams continued to come—but now he felt more vulnerable to Voldemort than ever before.

_If only I hadn't looked in that Pensieve . . ._

The thought wasn't entirely charitable on Snape's part; if Harry never looked into the Pensieve, he would still have an unsullied impression of his father. James Potter, the man Harry thought was valiant, good, and just was nothing more than a bully—at least according to Snape's memory. Harry had never felt more shame of the Potter name than when he saw his father lift Snape in the air and—well, he didn't know exactly what, for Snape had pulled him out then—but the intention was clear. His father was mean because he could be, not because someone attacked him first.

_And my mother! Why would she marry my father when she _clearly_ didn't like him then . . .?_

What he first noticed about Lily Evans were her eyes—the same eyes that stared back at him whenever he looked in the mirror. She was compassionate—still defending Snape, even after he called her a Mudblood. Harry didn't know if he had it in him to do the same. He caught his reflection in the window, the candlelight giving a soft texture to it.

_I look every bit like my father . . . and I act like him, as well._

No wonder why Snape hated him so! He finally understood Snape's animosity toward him, and begrudgingly felt pity for the older man.

He didn't like that one bit.

His head fell into his hands in defeat and wondered why the new year was getting progressively worse.

In the span of three months, Death Eaters and Dementors escaped from Azkaban, Dumbledore's Army was disbanded, Dumbledore _himself_ left Hogwarts, _Umbridge_ became Headmistress of Hogwarts, and she formed the Inquisitorial Squad—capable of giving and removing house points—with Malfoy and company premiere members.

There were a few bright moments—the printing of _The Quibbler_ with his expose of Voldemort's return being high on the list. Professors awarded house points for him _breathing_ at times, and Seamus Finnegan became his friend again—even Cho and he made reasonable amends, though the butterflies weren't as pronounced as before. But seeing Malfoy and his friends squirm made his life bearable—borderline pleasant even. 

But not anymore; his life was anything _but_ pleasant now.

He sighed and flattened his arms on the table to rest his head on them. He closed his eyes, hoping for a few minutes of escape from his current situation.

_The cool blade pressed against his jugular lightly, but he dared not move._

_"Where do you think you are going?"_

_He gulped, feeling the cool metal press closer against his skin._

_"Uh . . . ."_

_"You'd do well to heed your words carefully, my lord. It wouldn't do well if my sword happened to . . . _slip_ . . ."_

_The body pressed closer against his back, and he stifled a groan. Between the weapon at his throat and the weapon at his back, thought was a hard thing to come by._

_And that wasn't the only thing 'hard.'_

_The other hand slid around his bare torso and splayed over his abdomen. The fingers began a light caress, sending ripples throughout his body._

_He stifled a groan._

_"My lord becomes weak?" There was a throaty laugh—the laugh of a woman all too sure of her power._

Goddess be damned.

_He jutted his elbow into her abdomen, gaining enough room to maneuver out of her grasp. He ran to where his sword lay and picked it up quickly. Once again they were level—weapons ready to fight._

_"Impressive escape, my lord."_

_He smirked. "Not nearly as impressive as the capture, my Queen."_

_A corner of her mouth quirked. "One would think you wanted the capture."_

_"I've already been captured, my Queen, though the weapon used was far more powerful than the sword you hold."_

_Recognition made her golden eyes molten, and her face grew serious. "My lord, now is _not _the time to speak of such matters."_

_"No time like the present; you never know what the future may hold." _

_She snorted. _

_"Well, _you_ do . . ."_

_"I do not! I only see what Ra allows me to see. And as of late, it has been very little," she said dejectedly._

_"I wish I had your luck. My dreams haunt me so . . ."_

_"My lord, what do you dream?" Her sword fell to her side, and his stance relaxed as well. She walked towards him and sat down, patting the space next to her. He smiled sadly and followed suit._

_"My lord, is it necessary for you to remain in battle mode while we talk?"_

_There was humor in her voice, and he chuckled, his lion-head changing to his human one._

_"That is better," she murmured as she ran a palm over his sun-kissed skin. He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly, leaning in to her caress._

_"My Queen, you disarm me with a simple touch . . . a simple breath . . ."_

_He immediately felt empty and cold as her hand left his cheek. "Apedemak . . ."_

_"I know, I know, not the time," he muttered, frustration lacing his voice. He glanced over at her and noticed she didn't seem too thrilled either._

_"It really isn't the time, but it will come."_

_Apedemak had a feeling that was a loaded comment. "The time for what? For us to talk about how we cannot have the relationship we want, or for us to _be _in the relationship we want?"_

_"Tell me about your dream," she commanded, avoiding the question. _

_He knew well not to press her. "I dream of Thanatos, and of your brother . . . they are out to get me."_

_"You knew this before . . ."_

_"Yes, but the details are vivid. I see a great battle—a very bloody battle, my Queen. There will be significant casualties on both sides; I will die . . ."_

_"Do not say such things!"_

_"They are out to get me, because I am your strongest ally. I'm a pawn, Isis. The real prize is you."_

_"I am not a trophy, Apedemak. I am my own woman, my own goddess. No brother of mine or Underworld lord will win me because they want a plaything."_

_Apedemak shook his head; clearly she did not understand. "Thanatos wants power, Isis, but Set is the one who _really_ worries me. He's wanted _you_ since before you were born—he cares little that you are his sister. He's as depraved and sadistic as anyone that has ever been created. He will not rest until he has you under his control . . . and in his bed."_

_"He will be a weary god before he dies then."_

_"This is not a game, Isis."_

_"I know it's not. It's a war."_

_"They've already gotten Osiris."_

_"They will not get you—that I guarantee."_

_"Thoth allowed you to bring Osiris back from the dead one time; he will not grant you that power again. The next time your brother dies, he will stay dead."_

_"It is as the Fates proclaim."_

_"What if I die, Isis?"_

_"I won't let you. You're too important to me."_

_"As you are to me."_

_"Let's not talk of such matters . . ."_

_"But they must be discussed."_

_She stood then, picking up her sword and walking away from him. She practiced careful strokes, a primal dance that looked so very beautiful to him. Suddenly she stopped and held it out before her. The sword changed into an ebony bo stick—a favorite weapon of hers. She twirled it deftly in her hands, and Apedemak was awed that something as simple as a stick could inflict so much damage. Then again, the woman wielding it was a major cause of its effectiveness._

_"You are truly a sight to behold, my Queen," he murmured, standing slowly as he watched her. She seemed not to hear him, still working the staff as if it were an extension of herself. Apedemak changed into battle mode and lifted his blade, striking down on her staff. The adamatnium sliced through her stick as if it was silk, but Isis was not deterred. She whirled the sticks in her hands for a better grip and cut through the air, one half catching the backs of his knees while the other smashed against his chin. Apedemak roared and fell to the ground with a heavy thud, the wind knocked out of him. Through the haze he saw Isis put the two sticks together, and they blended into her sword again. She held out her right hand, and his own left his side and went to her. Before he could fully sit up, she pounced, flying towards him and straddling his torso, a sword on either side of his neck._

_"So . . . the Mighty Apedemak falls before me, hmm?" she asked, far too full of herself. His head reverted back to human, and his hands grasped her wrists, pushing them away and bringing her torso flush against his. Their noses were barely touching, and his gaze turned serious._

_"No, my Queen. I fell for you." He dropped his eyes to her lips and began to close the space between them._

"What are you doing?!"

Harry opened his eyes and found his face in someone's palm, his lips in a pucker. He jerked his head back in surprise, putting his hand on his mouth in shock. He saw her there and didn't know if she was trying not to laugh or beat him to a bloody pulp. Harry guessed it was a little of both.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, scanning his surroundings before looking back at her.

"It's a library! Most people come here to read, but you on the other hand . . ."

It was then Harry remembered coming here to avoid going to the Tower and falling asleep. "What did I do?"

"You roared, rather loudly I may add . . ."

Harry groaned. "At least I didn't dream about Voldemort this time," he muttered absently.

"One would hope you ain't tryin' to kiss Voldemort!" she chuckled.

He raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Actually, I was trying to kiss you."

She stopped laughing.

"Huh?"

"Um—well ah—not you _exactly_, but she did look much like you," Harry stammered. 

"You dream about me?"

The last thing he wanted to do was scare her off. "No! Not you! It can't possibly be you . . ."

"But she looks like me?"

"Yeah . . .but it's odd. The man in my dream is supposed to be me, and yet he doesn't look a thing like me . . ."

There was a look of fascination her face, and she sat down beside him. "What do you look like then?"

"I'm taller for one . . . much darker skin; broader, and I have two heads—"

"You have _two heads?!_"

"Not at the same time! I have a human head when I'm not fighting and then it changes into a lion's head when I do—"

It was her intake of breath that made Harry's heart beat faster.

"_Freaky . . ._" she breathed, her eyes wide.

"Freaky? What's freaky? What does that mean?" he asked quickly.

She didn't answer him. She pulled out a book from her bag flipped the pages until she found the one she wanted. Silently she put it before him.

"Read."

Harry's breath became shallow as he read the page. "This was a real god?"

"Yeah. Apedemak is the Nubian god of war and victory and protector of the pharaohs. He was the principal god of Nubia for centuries."

Harry touched the pages delicately.

"Where did you find this book?"

"Dumbledore gave it to me."

Harry found that odd, but he put it out of his mind. "I thought I was making him up . . . may I borrow it? I promise I'll return it—"

"Actually, I'm not finished with it yet . . ."

Harry was crestfallen. "Oh. Uh, well then . . ." He cleared his throat.

She perked up. "Easter break is soon, right? Why don't we meet here at certain times, and we'll share the book?"

"I don't know . . . it could cause quite a scandal—a Gryffindor and a Slytherin sharing something!"

"You should be used to scandal!" she teased, then immediately slapped her hands over her mouth.

"Yeah, I guess I should be . . ."

"I am _so sorry,_ Harry! I didn't mean for it to come out like that . . ."

"You called me Harry," he said with a grin.

"That's your name, isn't it?"

"And yours is Nia." He didn't know how it happened, but suddenly they were nose to nose, his green eyes staring into her amber ones. "Isis . . ."

She shot up from her chair and hastily gathered her belongings. Harry grabbed her wrist, stilling her movements.

"Let me go, Harry."

"You've had dreams about it as well, haven't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said quickly.

Harry stood, his eyes and hand never leaving her. "You're lying. There's something going on between us, Nia, and you know it. You knew it when we first met in front of the Great Hall all those months ago and when you met me in the courtyard after the Quidditch game against Slytherin. Fate is trying to tell us something."

Nia sighed. "And just what do you think that is, huh?"

"I don't know, but I know we have to find out—together."


	21. Twenty

_Twenty_

She was flaming mad.

Her hands were on her jutted hips, and her eyebrows were in a frown.  Her lips were curled in disgust, and her foot tapped impatiently on the ground.  Her hair was void of the usual bow, falling across her shoulders and her eyes as the dying rays of the sun reflected off it.

_Dear Merlin, she's gorgeous!_

"Do you know what your _mother _will have to say about this?  Heck!  Does she even _know_ about the lifetime Quidditch ban you and George have?" she asked heatedly.

Fred shook his head out of its daze and grinned at her.

"Of _course_ Mum doesn't know about that!  And of _course_ we fully expect Howlers at our shop when we get there!  We're not _daft,_ woman!"

"And yet you did it anyway?"

"Better a Howler from Mum than to stay in the castle with Umbridge as the Headmistress.  You know she makes you carve lines in the _back of your hand!_"

She shuddered.  "That woman is bloody _awful!_"

"Exactly.  Good thing we left, or Hogwarts would've been a tropical rainforest!"

"Complete with venomous creatures?"

"We already _have_ a venomous creature there as it is—_Bitchus umbridge_."  

She giggled.  "That's not nice, Fred.  True, but not nice . . ."

Fred grinned and sat down against a tree.  "Angel, sit with me a moment."  He patted a space next to him.

She hesitated a moment before complying. "You shouldn't even _be_ here anymore.  What if you get caught?"

"Don't you think George and I thought of that?  Peeves is working diversions for us; Lee is as well."

"You had this whole dropping out of school thing _planned_?"

"Yes."

Angelina snorted again.  "Should've _known_ that . . ."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, love; it had to be top secret."  

"So now what are you going to do about school?  Are you going to take your N.E.W.T.s some kind of way?"

"What for?  You don't have to graduate Hogwarts to be in the Order!  Look at Hagrid . . .Figg . . . _your mum!"_

"Oh yes, that's right, but my mum is not an official Order member."

"So?  You just want to punish me for leaving you here all alone, don't you?" he teased, bumping his elbow against hers.

"I should, shouldn't I?  You _are_ leaving me all alone . . ."

He immediately sobered, and his heart plummeted into his stomach.  "_Dear Merlin!"_

"Didn't think _that_ far into your plans, did you?  I wonder how George let you talk him into that.  He and Alicia have been inseparable since last year."

Fred wasn't listening, though.  He leaned his head against the tree and closed his eyes as he wondered what possessed him to leave the one thing that had been his constant joy throughout his time at Hogwarts.  

"Angelina . . .I didn't think—"

"That's_ right_, Frederick Weasley!  You _didn't_ think!"  Angelina stood up again and began to pace.  "_How could you?!_  You're the only one I can talk to; you're the only one who understands!  And now that you're gone . . ."

"Angel . . . believe me . . ."

"I was beginning to think that maybe, just _maybe_ you meant what you said to me on New Year's Eve, that maybe you did—"

"I do."

"That maybe what I felt for you had a small _chance_ of being reciprocated.  But oh _no!_  Frederick Weasley will _always_ only be about fun and games."

Fred was certain that his heart stopped beating.  _Reciprocated?_

"Angel?"

"I knew you were only being nice to me," she muttered, still not paying attention to the man before her.

Fred stood slowly and walked towards her in a daze.  She'd stop pacing then, her back to him, with her arms hugging herself.  He gently put his arms around her, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.  Fred saw her eyes were closed, yet tears streamed down.  She was trying not to cry, her face tight with effort, but it was to no avail.  Instead of saying something, he bent his head and kissed her cheeks, tasting the salt of her tears.  Angelina let out a sigh, and her face tightened even more, as if trying to ward off the feeling his kiss elicited from her.

That will not do at all . . .

Fred moved one of his hands from around her to cradle her cheek, brining her face closer to his mouth.  His lips trailed over her eyelids, eyebrows, and eyes, whisper soft.  She trembled at his kisses, and he tightened his arm around her.  His nose rubbed against hers before he moved his head to her cheeks again, less in a kiss than a caress.  Angelina whimpered, growing heavy against him.  Fred welcomed the weight.  He moved his hand from her face to tangle in her braids, and he pulled them gently before sinking his hand to her scalp.  He massaged lightly, exerting just enough pressure to be calming.  Her face was finally relaxing.  He smiled a little, and his hand left her hair to cup her neck as his mouth moved to her ear.  He merely breathed.

"Fred?" she asked, her voice husky yet uncertain.

"I'm in love with you."

"_Oh dear God . . ._"  

Fred laughed lowly in her ear, her growled exclamation breaking the tension he felt.  She turned fully toward him and put her hands on his cheeks.

"Are you kidding me?" she asked, her eyes wide and full of tears.

"No, love," he said, a boyish grin on his face. 

Angelina frowned, and her eyes hardened.  Her hands moved from his cheeks to the collar of his robes, bringing him down so they were eye to eye.

"Do _not_ play with me, Frederick Weasley!  I am in _no_ state for games, and I'm _liable_ to hex you where the sun doesn't shine!"  

Fred laughed again and closed the space between them.  Her lips still tasted of tears, but they were soft and pliant beneath his.  She moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him closer to her.  He opened her mouth with his, and his tongue slipped inside, feeling the texture of her tongue with his.  Angelina closed her mouth and sucked on it.  Fred groaned.  He brought her flush against him, his hands traveling up and down her back as if to memorize the curves of her body.  After a few more moments, Angelina broke the kiss, yet kept her lips to his.

"I'm only going to ask this one more time, Fred.  Are you kidding me?"

Fred saw desperation, longing and hope in those brown eyes, and he looked at her seriously.  "I am not kidding you, Angel.  I love you.  I am in love with you.  I will love you.  Always."

And then she smiled.

Fred thought he'd been blinded by the brilliance of such a smile, and he couldn't contain his own.  She let out a very un-Angelina like squeal and wrapped her arms around him tightly.  Fred laughed and lifted her from the ground, his arms a vice around her waist. 

"You're serious!  Oh Fred!"

He didn't know if she was laughing or crying; he guessed it was a bit of both.  He chuckled.  "Yes, I'm serious.  I love you, woman!"

"Oh baby," she murmured, pulling away to look into his eyes.  Her fingers ran lightly over his cheeks and his lips before pressing hers against them.  It was a soft kiss, yet full of love.  "I'm ready now.  I'm ready to accept it.  I didn't want to before; I thought you were just being Fred.  But you _were_ being Fred; just the serious side you show so rarely.  Oh baby, I love you, too."  She kissed him again, and Fred smiled under her lips.

"I'll bet you're still mad at me for leaving school though, aren't you, love?"

"Hell yes!"

They both laughed at her declaration.

"But I understand that there are bigger things for you, Fred.  You and George are brilliant businessmen and highly creative.  Your products will bring joy in a time where it's a precious commodity.  I'm glad you're doing this, even if I _am_ a bit selfish and want you to stay here with me . . ."

Fred closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.  He kissed her forehead tenderly.  "I'm _so_ going to miss you, my Angel."

"It's only until June, love.  Then we'll be together, and you'll wish I'd stop nagging at you all the time!"

"That's what I'm going to miss most!"  She pinched his side.  "And that as well!" 

"Silly git . . ." she muttered.  

He laughed and hugged her.  They just stood there hugging, neither saying a word.

"I'd better get going, love.  It'll be dinner soon, and we can't have you getting caught with me," he said reluctantly.  Her arms just tightened around him.  "I know, love, I know.  But you must go."

She laughed shortly.  "Never thought there'd be a day when _you're _the voice of reason!"

"Never thought there'd be a day when you loved me in return, so never say never . . ."

She pulled out of his embrace and framed his face with her hands.  Her gaze met his, and they didn't say anything.  She kissed him, a chaste, closed-mouth kiss so full of promise, before she pulled away and began to run back to the castle.  

Fred watched her go and thought June couldn't come soon enough.  

~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you almost done, my boy?"

Bill Weasley wiped his brow before answering.  "Almost, though I will say it's a very intricate and complex charm . . ."

"But you are the very best, my boy.  Why else would I seek you out?"

"Perhaps because I was on leave from my job, and I'm the only one in the Order?"  The redhead smirked.

"And this is why you were Head Boy . . ."

"Exactly, Professor!"

"Why don't you call me Albus, my boy?"

Bill gave him a lopsided smile.  "My entire life you've been Professor Dumbledore.  I may be in my twenties, but there's nothing that will make me say your first name—not the name of a great wizard such as you."

"Still the brownnoser, I see."

Bill laughed.  "Where do you think Percy learned it?"  He immediately sobered.  "How is he doing?"

"I don't know.  I haven't spoken to him since I left."

"I hope he's all right.  He has one of the biggest assignments of all of us."  

"And no one suspects a thing—not even your parents."

"Apparently they are taking it hard.  I know the twins are thinking less-than-pleasant thoughts about him."

"When have the twins _ever_ had a pleasant thought about your brother?"

Bill chuckled slightly.  "I guess you're right.  It's just hard being so much older than them and so far away.  I missed their childhoods . . ."

"My boy, you were away ensuring they _would_ have a childhood—they and so many more children.  Now your work is more important than ever."

"I hear you, Professor."  Bill huffed and narrowed his eyes, working his wand over the seal of an ebony box.  Dumbledore watched the younger man's intricate maneuvers with bated breath.

_If this is what I think it is, it could help the Order significantly_.

Dumbledore's eyes widened as if he were trying to pry the box open with them.  The box glowed gold.

"Well?" Dumbledore asked, cutting his eyes from the man to the chest.

"Got it."  Bill opened it gingerly, revealing two papyrus scrolls.  

Dumbledore exhaled a shaky breath.  "I think we've got it, my boy!  I think we've got it!"

"Dear Merlin, I'm glad!  I would not have been pleased if all that work was for naught!" Bill laughed in relief.  

Dumbledore clapped Bill's shoulder in appreciation.  "Fine work, that is.  I really appreciate it."

"No problem.  Any excuse to get away from the desk . . . and the goblins," Bill said with a smirk.

"You asked for the Gringotts desk job, remember?"

"Yes, and now I remember exactly why I asked for a field job in the first place.  I'm bored to tears!"

Dumbledore looked at him gravely.  "You should be so lucky, Mr. Weasley.  Pretty soon things will be anything but boring."

Bill looked grave.  "I know this."

"But these scrolls . . . these scrolls could hold the answer to many of our questions, especially how to deal with Voldemort."

"Do you really think he's the reincarnate of some Egyptian god?" Bill asked incredulously.

"Yes I do.  My wife Saw these events happening; she knew they would have some sort of connection to the Battle of the Gods that happened many millennia ago."

"Your wife?  I didn't know you were married," Bill said with a small frown.

"Not many people know, my boy."

"Did you have any kids?"

"Yes."

"Whatever happened to them?"

Dumbledore smiled sadly.  "Life."

Bill nodded, knowing he probably asked too much as it was.  There was a moment of easy silence before Dumbledore spoke again.

"She was actually from here, Aswan that is.  She was a priestess at this temple.  Many cannot see it—Muggles and wizards alike, so when they moved the main Temple of Isis, this one remained.  It is submerged under water like this for most of the year, as is the rest of the village, because of the dam.  Lucky for us, we had magic on our side, so we could get to it."

"The government allowed this to happen?  To flood an entire village?"

"I don't know.  Personally I think wizards used some Unforgivables to force the dam and flood the village, probably to destroy these scrolls.  Though they could not see it, they knew it was here."

"But they didn't know about the charm to keep the temple dry, did they?"

"No, my boy.  Asenath Saw this would happen, so she convinced the High Priests and Priestesses to put the Bubble Charm around it.  Ingenious, my Asenath was," Dumbledore said with a smile.

Bill hesitated, his mouth opening and closing as if struggling to say something.

"Ask your question, my boy.  How did I manage to meet her?"

Bill nodded mutely.

"Purely by accident, really.  I'd been taking a tour of the world because I wanted to see how witches and wizards lived outside of England.  I spent ten years in each country, exploring it—China and India were first—and then I was in Egypt.  By then I was a spry forty, and I realized how rich in magic Egypt was.  It's practically the birthplace of magic, and I was in awe."

"How I know; Egypt is a wonder," Bill agreed with a nod.

"Yes, it is.  As I was saying, I went to Alexandria, Cairo, Memphis, Thebes—all were wonderful, but it was in Aswan that my breath was really taken away."

"Because of the magic?"

"You could call it that, my boy, for there was something magical about Asenath."

Bill smiled, mildly surprised at the joy that all but radiated from the older man.

"As I said before, few can see this temple, so when I did, I left the tour group and went to it.  It was a beautiful temple, but not nearly as beautiful as the woman who greeted me."

"I wish I could've seen her," Bill mused.  Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at the comment.

"She had the darkest skin I've ever seen—smooth, the color of a chocolate frog—"

"That explains a lot!" Bill teased.

Dumbledore chuckled.  "You've found my secret then."

"It is safe with me."

Dumbledore grinned.  "Yes, and her eyes were as golden as the sun.  She wore the traditional Egyptian wig, and it fell straight past her shoulders.  When she spoke, her voice flowed over me like warm honey.  It was deep and soothing.  I'm sure I stood there drooling like an idiot, but I did not care.  I fell in love at that very moment, and something told me she did, as well.  I knew when she smiled that soft smile of hers.  I knew she was affected as deeply as I.  But I was afraid."

"Never thought I'd hear Dumbledore admit he was _afraid_ of something," Bill said in surprise.

"Love can scare the mightiest of wizards, my boy."

"But it makes you stronger, no?"

Dumbledore smiled softly.  "Yes.  It does."  He cleared his throat.  "Yes, my fear; I feared I was projecting, that perhaps she didn't feel as I did.  She was half my age when I met her!  Surely a young woman as her could find a young Nubian warrior to marry.  But then another thought came upon me—what if she wasn't allowed to marry?  I knew I wanted to be with her the rest of my life; I knew she was the woman for me.  But I was unfamiliar with priests, temples, and the like."

"But you did marry her . . ."

"She left with me when it was time for me to leave.  I didn't want her to do anything she didn't want, but she told me 'Fate brought you here to me, and She wants me to go with you.  My destiny is bound to yours, All-boos.'  I loved how she said my name . . ."

"And what happened?  Is she still alive?"

"We went to Brazil, then New Orleans in the States."

"Why there?"

"We were on a hunt for Set by then.  Asenath alerted me to the history of the Egyptian gods while I was there, and his path led us to those places."

"What happened?"

"My beloved died," Dumbledore said, his voice no louder than a whisper.

Bill could only blink for a few moments before he could speak.  "Set?"

Dumbledore shook his head.  "Eliza.  My daughter.  Asenath died in childbirth."  Though a hundred years had passed, the pain of that day was still fresh to him.

"I'm sorry, Professor.  I should've never asked . . ."

"No, my boy, it is fine.  As it is, we should get this back to my private quarters and read the scrolls quickly.  I have a feeling I'll be returning to England soon."


	22. Twenty One

_Twenty One_

He was tired, so very, very tired.

"And it's only just begun . . ."  

He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling the duvet fully over the sleeping child.  He knew everything.  He knew about Potter and company going to the Department of Mysteries; he knew about the battle that ensued between six teenagers and twelve Death Eaters.  He knew about the Order joining the ranks, about Black . . .

"Severus!"

He left the bed and went into the sitting area.  McGonagall was there with her walking cane and looked peaky.  Dumbledore looked exhausted.

"How is she?"  Dumbledore asked at once.

"Sleeping, finally.  She was up all night . . ."

"I sent Kingsley to find the body.  I gave him the Portkey to your workroom.  He should arrive here soon," Dumbledore said.

"Nia said we only have a limited time before he'll be lost behind the veil.  The window of opportunity is but so big."

"And the potion?"

"It's brewing as we speak."

"Did Nia—"

"No, I did.  She's not strong enough.  But I had to follow the directions she uttered _exactly_.  One misstep and the potion would be useless," Snape said.

"But-but, where did you _find_ these ingredients?  Surely they couldn't all be in England!"

"Very true, Minerva.  During my . . . _hiatus,_ I was in Egypt, and I found the necessary ingredients for such a potion."

"I'm not even going to ask," she mumbled.

Dumbledore smiled softly.  "Good, because I wouldn't be able to tell you."

Snape immediately perked up.  "I take it you found the scrolls, then?"

Dumbledore nodded.  "Now more than ever are they important.  I just finished the difficult task of telling Potter about the prophecy, and I fear telling Nia about hers will be even more difficult.  Potter was one thing, but Nia . . . Nia is my flesh and blood."

Snape looked sad, and Dumbledore immediately felt regret.  "Oh my, Severus my boy . . ."

"She's my daughter.  I know."  Snape's voice was hollow, but he was glad he kept the thickness out of it.

"These children shouldn't have to deal with all of this!  They can't even have a childhood!" McGonagall said, her voice quavering with sadness and frustration.

"These events have been set into motion even before _I_ was born.  Fate chose them, and I personally think She chose well," Dumbledore said.

"And it cost their mothers in the process," Snape said bitterly.

"It takes sacrifices, Severus.  You know that," Dumbledore said, looking at him over his half-moon glasses.  

Severus scowled, and his right hand went unchecked to his left wrist.  "Sacrifices indeed."

Dumbledore had no words.

Suddenly they heard a ruckus in Severus's workroom.  Snape stood immediately and walked quickly into it.  Dumbledore and McGonagall followed at a slower pace.

"Where do I put him?  He's getting heavy," Kingsley said, his deep voice hoarse from exertion.

"Lay him on that table over there," Snape said, pointing to it.  Kingsley turned with some effort before finally placing the body on the table.  Dumbledore and McGonagall hovered at the door as they waited for instructions from Severus.

"Minerva, transfigure the table into a chaise lounge."

McGonagall nodded shortly and did as instructed.  The table changed, and the body upon it reclined to fit the shape.

"Headmaster, undress him totally."

"Will you be okay, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked Minerva and patted her hand gently.  McGonagall nodded, and Dumbledore left her side to complete his task.  McGonagall walked gingerly to Severus.

"Is the potion ready?"

"Yes.  Could you help me bottle it?"

They worked silently yet efficiently.  "Be careful not to let any of it drop.  We must salvage all we can from the cauldron."

"Are we sure it will work?" she asked as they finished transferring the potion from the cauldron to the flasks.

"Every time Nia has dreamed, it has come true.  If she dreamed the potion will work, it will work."

"I trust your judgment, Severus.  And Nia's as well." McGonagall said firmly.  Severus nodded and took his flask towards the prone body.  The wound from the curse was still fresh, the blood coagulated upon his skin in the straightest of lines in the center of his chest.

"Bellatrix got him good—really good," Kingsley said with a hint of sadness.

"Hopefully not good enough," Severus muttered.  He dipped his index and middle fingers in the flask and pulled them out.  The translucent potion clung to his fingers like wax.  

"What exactly are you doing?  Don't you think it's a little too late to use a healing potion on him?" Kingsley asked suspiciously.  Severus just looked at him quickly before putting the potion on the wound.  The wound glowed red, then green, then yellow before fading to its normal color.

"Is that all?" Dumbledore asked.

"No; but that's a good sign.  That's what happened in her dream."

"What is next, then?"

"We rub this all over his body, since he obviously can't drink it."  

Kingsley, Dumbledore and Severus rubbed the concoction over the body completely.  The potion had to touch every part of it in order to work.  When they were done, Severus summoned a blanket and dipped it in the remaining potion in the cauldron.  The blanket absorbed the brew, and it glowed, letting them know it was locked within the threads.  He carefully draped the coverlet entirely over the body.

"We must leave now."

They left the room.  Severus extinguished all the candles, leaving the room pitch black.  Upon closing the door, Dumbledore put a charm on it, effectively sealing it from all intruders.

"What did we just do?" Kingsley asked, once everyone was seated again.

Severus and Dumbledore exchanged glances.  McGonagall was dazed.

"I think we've just played God," she said lowly.

"Thoth, more precisely," Dumbledore said almost amusedly.

"And Isis," Severus added.

"I'm sorry.  I do not follow . . ."

"Ancient magic, Kingsley, ancient magic," Dumbledore said.

Kingsley frowned.  "There's not enough magic in the world that can bring people back from the dead!"

"Are you familiar with the story of Isis and Osiris?" Severus asked.

"Yes."

"Same concept, different players."

"Are you saying you're Isis now?" Kingsley chuckled.

"Same concept, different players."

"But you don't even _like_ Black.  Why in the world would you want to save your worst enemy's life?"

Snape snorted.  "If I was saving my 'worst enemy's' life, I'd have given the potion to Pettigrew."

Kingsley raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Sirius is important to the Order.  He must be saved," Dumbledore interjected.

"Because of Harry," Kingsley guessed.  

Dumbledore nodded.

"How will we know if the potion worked?" McGonagall asked finally.

"He is to remain as he is for a fortnight.  Then and only then will we know.  We must not breathe a word of this to _anyone_.  Not even Potter.  Better they all think he's dead anyway.  Makes the mission slightly easier," Severus warned.

"Hmm, I think it's best if you use an Obliviate charm on me, Dumbledore.  I don't want to claim any knowledge of what just happened," Kingsley said.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive.  The less I know about this the better."

Dumbledore nodded imperceptibly.  "Minerva, if you could."

"Certainly, Albus.  I need to go back to the Tower as it is."  Kingsley escorted McGonagall out of the quarters, and the flask cabinet slid into place with a hiss.  Snape was about to say something when Dumbledore put up a hand to silence him.

"I do not need to hear your slander against Harry.  Bad enough I had to hear him rant about you only hours ago."

"I promise you, Headmaster, that boy is only going to hate me more.  He'll think _I _killed his precious Padfoot," Snape sneered.

"Should've known you'd find a way to express your dislike anyway."

"Who am I to disappoint?  I've done enough of that already."

Dumbledore looked pointedly at the younger man but decided to let the comment slide.  "How did you know Nia was having a dream?"

"Pansy Parkinson."

"Really.  I didn't think they liked each other."

"They _don't_, but she's a prefect; she had to, in a sense.  Nia's roommates alerted Miss Parkinson to Nia's distress, and she came and got me.  I knew I had to get her out of the room, so I carried her here."

"She told you the dream afterwards?"

"Not exactly.  I used my Pensieve to see the dreams.  Headmaster, as much as I hate to admit it, Potter is an excellent wizard."

"Yes he is.  Much like his father, no?"

Severus could not dampen the urge to roll his eyes.  "Are you deliberately trying to bait me, Headmaster?"

"Of course not, dear boy."  His twinkling eyes belied his words.

Severus exhaled slowly and heavily.  "I think this is the first test to see if Asenath's prediction was true."

The mirth left Dumbledore's eyes as quickly as it had come.  "I think you are right, Severus.  If this potion works, it would all but confirm what we've thought since her birth."

There was silence for a moment.

"She didn't know what she was doing, Headmaster.  She slept through the entire process."

"What do you mean, 'slept through'?"

"She did the potion in her sleep.  She was in some sort of trance . . ."

"Really?"

"Yes.  In fact, I don't even think she'll remember what she did—about Sirius anyway . . ."

"Good.  Better she doesn't."

"And the scrolls?"

"They are with Jamilah.  It is too dangerous for them to be in England, or in Europe for that matter."

"What of Nia?  Will she go back to the States during holiday?"

"Yes.  Especially if the potion works.  Better for the blame to go to me than to Nia."

"Blame?"

"Yes, blame.  I think Voldemort knows of her now.  When he entered Harry, he saw his thoughts, his memories.  Voldemort's knowledge of her will make her a target."

"He knows of this?  Of the reincarnated gods?"

"If he didn't, he'll know now."

"That is not good, Headmaster . . ."

"No, it's not.  I think he's Set."

Severus shook his head.  "I don't think so.  She was never a target.  If The Dark Lord knew of her, he would've vanquished her before the Potters . . ."

"Who do you suppose?"

"Pettigrew.  It has to be him; there's no other person."

"Nott?  Avery?"

Severus snorted.  "Hardly them.  Though Avery is certainly perverted enough, he doesn't have the mental capacity."

"But Peter . . ."

"Why else would he try to get to Malika _after_ The Dark Lord's fall?"

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, deep in thought.  "Could it be possible Set _used_ to be in Voldemort?"

"I don't know.  I think the scrolls would answer the question better than I."

"I hope so."

"Will Nia read the scrolls?"

Dumbledore shook his head.  "Not yet.  Not until Sirius returns from behind the veil."


	23. Twenty Two

_Twenty Two_

"No . . . _nooo!_  Harry!  Watch out!  No!  _Please_—"

"Shhh, shhh, it's all right.  It's all right, love . . ."

Hermione awoke with a start, very aware of the strong arms holding her middle.  Her breathing came out in rapid spurts, and she gripped tighter at the arms around her.

"Ron?" she asked hesitantly.

"I'm here.  I'm right here, Hermione."  There was a kiss to her head.  "You were dreaming again."

"Did I wake you?"

"I've been awake for a while now."

There was silence.

"I'm sorry Ron."  She felt him shake his head.

"'S not your fault.  I told you I've been awake for a while."

"Is Professor Umbridge awake?"  He shifted.

"No.  I think Pomfrey gave her a Dreamless Sleep potion.  She's out like a light."

"I feel bad about what I did to her."

"I don't.  She deserved it!  She's been bloody awful.  I knew it would be you to put her in her place."

Hermione's heart swelled at his words.  "Really?"

"Of course!  Need I remind you of Skeeter?  Of _Malfoy?_"

"I suppose you're right."  She couldn't keep the smugness out of her voice.

"Besides, you'd think that after five years _I'd_ know not to mess with you, but I can't.  You're a drug, Hermione.  I'm addicted to you."

Hermione's eyes shot open.  Surely she was dreaming.

"Huh?"  It was inarticulate, and definitely not up to her usual witty remark, yet it was the only fitting exclamation she could utter.

"You're a drug, my drug.  My 'Mione."  

Her heart was racing.

_I'm not dreaming!  I'm hallucinating!_

"Ron?  Are you awake?"

"Yes."

"Do you know what you're saying?"

"Yes."

"Do you mean it?"

"Very much so."

_Oh dear._

Hermione pinched herself, and she heard him chuckle.

"You're awake, too, 'Mione."

"It appears that way," she muttered as she sat up in the bed.  Ron did not follow.  Hermione raised her knees and rested her arms on them, then her head on her arms.

"This can_not_ be happening to me . . ."

"What's happening to you, 'Mione?  Is it the curse?"  She felt his arms around her again, his chin atop her head.  She felt very safe and secure—cherished.

_Oh dear._

"No, it's not the curse."  His arms tightened around her, and she leaned against him, too tired to tell her body to do otherwise.

"Then what's wrong?"

_Nothing's wrong.  For once something may be_ right.

"I really don't like being compared to a narcotic, Ron."

She felt him stiffen, and she stifled a laugh.

"That's—that's not what I—I mean—bloody _hell,_ woman!  I like you!  Satisfied?"

"Of course you like me, Ron.  We're friends."

She grinned smugly, glad he couldn't see it. 

_No, no, Ron.  You started this, and I intend to make you sweat it out.  _

"You're insufferable, you know," he muttered.

"But you like me anyway."  

She was having entirely too much fun with this.

"That I do.  I like you very much.  But I like something else almost as much."

She frowned.  His voice had dropped a few decibels, and it took on a husky quality.  

_What was he on about? _ "What is it, then?"

Ron's hand touched her face, turning it to his.  His eyes roamed over her features, and Hermione could barely suppress the quiver that passed through her.  "This."

His mouth was on her before she could think.  Not that it mattered anyway; his kiss effectively made outside thought impossible.  Every sensation concentrated on the feel of his lips on hers.

_This must be what heaven feels like._

"Paradise.  Pure heaven.  When I die, I want to be kissing you," he murmured against her lips.  

Hermione pulled back and frowned.  "Where did that come from?"

"I dunno.  You make me do things, woman, say things I wouldn't normally say."

"And you mean them."

"Merlin yes."

"I don't want you to die," she said in a small voice.  Ron cupped the back of her head and kissed her forehead.

"I don't want me to die, either, but it will happen sometime.  There's a war going on now, Hermione.  Cedric was the first casualty and now . . . and now Sirius.  There's a strong possibility all of us may not come out alive."

"Don't—don't talk like that."  Her voice wavered, and tears began streaming down her cheeks.  "You're just sixteen, Ron!  You shouldn't talk like that!"

Ron wiped her face gently with his thumbs.  "I may be sixteen on paper, but look at all we've seen, all we've experienced!  We're _much_ older than that!"

Hermione snuggled closer to him and relished in his warmth.

"I don't want you to die," she repeated again.  "I don't want Harry to die.  I don't want _anyone_ to die except for Voldemort.  Once he goes, all of this will be over."

"Yes, but death in a war is inevitable.  You have to be prepared for it."

Hermione said nothing, content to listen to his heart beat under her ear.  He reclined in the bed again, causing her to lie atop him.  Ron's hand ran through her hair in a comforting gesture, as though trying to lull her back to sleep.  

"But in the meantime," he said, and she dragged her eyes back open, "I aim to do a lot of the thing I fancy with the girl I fancy."  

There was a teasing quality to his voice, and Hermione smirked.  "Then why are you here with me?  Umbridge is three beds down from us."  

Hermione giggled silently as Ron sputtered and made choking noises.  "Shut your filthy mouth!  That is the most vile and disgusting thing you've ever said!" 

Hermione only laughed harder, lifting herself off him to look into his eyes.  They were sparkling.  "You have such lovely eyes, Ron."

He smiled softly.  "That could have something to do with the person I'm seeing at the moment."  She blushed and ducked her face from his view.  "Or it could be delirium, but my money's on you."  

Hermione snapped her head up with a gasp.  "Your money's on _me _now, is it?  I do _not_ appreciate being likened to a scarlet woman, either!  This will not be the first time you've done so, mind you!"

"You _do_ turn scarlet when you blush, love.  Just calling it like I see it."

He called me 'love!'  I know I'm a wonderful shade of scarlet now.  

She gasped quietly as a realization hit her.  _And he said it earlier._

_Oh dear . . ._

"Ah, yes, well, Ron, I'm terribly tired.  I think you should let me go now, so I can sleep properly."  

_Don't let me go, Ron._

The arms around her squeezed harder.  "I rather like you in my arms, Mione.  You fit right in them."

_Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear._

"I could get heavy, Ron.  Don't be daft."

"I'm not being daft.  In fact, I think I've finally gotten the point I missed over a year and a half ago."

"The point?"

"About not thinking of you as a last resort."

"You remember that?"

"'Course I do.  I remember everything you tell me."

"Then what's the fifth use of dragon's blood?"

"Uhh. . . ."

"Not everything, then."

"If I recall, you gave me the book to read."

"So?"

"So, that's not telling me.  That's showing me."

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "If only you could be that clever with everything you do."

"Then you wouldn't be the cleverest one of all!"

She snorted.  "Spare me."

"No bother.  I have wizard's chess.  As long as I can best you there, I'll be a happy man."

"Fine.  Now let go."

"Don't think so, 'Mione.  I've finally got you where I want you, and I don't plan on letting go."  

He kissed the top of her head and settled into the pillows.  After a few moments, she heard his light snoring.  Hermione hesitated a moment before putting her fingertips to her lips then placing them on his as she settled more comfortably in his arms.

_Don't, Ron.  Don't ever let me go._

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do you think we should get them down?"

"What for?  I rather like them that way . . ."

The slugs in the luggage rack squirmed even more at that comment.

"Ginny!"

The older girl rolled her eyes.  "Fine!  We'll get them down!"

After a few moments of trying spells, the bodies were lifted from the rack, and the curse was broken.

"That is the most horrendous thing I've ever experienced in my life," Draco wheezed as he patted himself to reassure himself that he was, in fact, in his original body.

"Whatever happened to, 'thank you, Nia and Ginny, for lifting the curse?'" Nia asked amusedly.

"A Malfoy doesn't apologize," he said stubbornly.

"Okay then, I'll put a curse on you so bad you'll _wish_ you ended up a slug," Ginny threatened.

"Thank you, Nia and Ginny, for lifting the curse."

"And you two?" Nia asked, pointing her wand to Crabbe and Goyle.

"Thank you, Nia and Ginny!" Goyle said quickly and hurried to his original compartment.  Crabbe glared at Nia, but she held her stance, crossing her arms in front of her and raising an eyebrow in a challenge.

Crabbe grunted.  "Thank, you Nia and Ginny," he muttered and followed Goyle.

"Let's not sound _too_ sincere," Nia muttered as Crabbe left.

"You actually got him to apologize for something.  That's a feat in and of itself," Draco reminded her.

"Now for the question of the day—_why_ did you end up like this in the first place?" Nia asked.

Draco scowled as Ginny smirked.  "He was trying to play a trick on Harry," Ginny answered.

"He got my father arrested," Draco mumbled.

"Your 'father' deserved it," Nia said unapologetically.  Draco glared at her.  "What?  Gonna try and hex me, too?"

"Wouldn't _dream_ of it."

"Yes, you would.  You just remember I have a punch that rivals Mike Tyson."

"Who?

"Never mind."

"You should really think out your plans of revenge more thoroughly.  One would think you'd know that, since you _are_ in Slytherin," Ginny mentioned.

Draco's scowl deepened as he stood.  "Potter's not worth the aggravation.  He'll get it soon enough."

"Get what?  The Order of Merlin, First Class?"  

"No!  My foot up his a—"

"Language, Malfoy.  We have a young one, here."

Nia controlled the urge to scream.  "Ass!  He's gonna put his foot up his ASS!"

The two older students looked at Nia in shock before they all began to laugh.

"Now look and what you've gone and done, Malfoy.  You've corrupted this sweet, charming girl!" Ginny teased.

Draco smirked.  "I beg to differ.  I fear she's the one who's corrupted _me!_"

"You would enjoy that, wouldn't you?" Nia muttered.

"Of course."

"But not as much if a certain redheaded Gryffindor did the same?"  Nia looked pointedly at Ginny.

Draco made a disgusted face.  "We were having such a lovely conversation, and you had to bring the Weasel in it."

"It's like that, is it?" Ginny asked.  She humphed and turned on her heel.

Draco scowled at Nia, and she lifted her hands in denial.  "Me not do anything wrong."

Draco hesitated a moment before grabbing Ginny's arm and whirling her around to face him.

"You git!  What do you think you are—_mmm._"

Draco swallowed the insult with his mouth on hers.  Ginny relaxed her body and wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him closer.

"There's a way to get her!" Nia smirked.  Draco waved his hand behind his back and tried to shoo her away, but too much of his attention was on snogging the life out of Ginny Weasley.

"If I were you, I'd get a room."

"Thanks Angelina," Ginny murmured against Draco's lips, and the couple made their way into a compartment—lips still locked together.

"I hope that room is empty," Angelina said.

"BUGGER OFF!"  

The compartment Ginny and Draco entered soon had scared first years running out of it, searching desperately for another car.  

"Who knew Ginny had it in her?" Nia asked with a grin.  

"You should hear it when she yells at her brothers.  I think she does her mum proud," Angelina joked.  

They shared a laugh that faded into a comfortable silence.

"Ready to go home?" Angelina asked after a while.

"Yeah.  I've missed Grandma, but I have so many questions.  I'm definitely not the same girl as before."

"I imagine you're not.  Hogwarts has a way of changing people."

"And their relationships," Nia smirked.

Angelina grinned as well.  "So from here you take the train to the airport?"

"Yup.  I'll be flying high in the sky for eight hours.  What joy that will bring . . ."

"Nia, it's the best feeling in the world.  Nothing like the wind blowing in your face as you speed across the pitch . . ."

"I'm partial to the ground myself."

Angelina laughed.  "I'll talk to Ginny about teaching you to fly.  Once you get on a broom, you'll never want to come down."

"What about Ginny?"

The two girls turned to see a slightly disheveled Draco and Ginny emerge from the compartment.  Draco looked highly pleased with himself, and Ginny was a little pink, yet smug.

"Angie's gone crazy and suggested you teach me how to fly," Nia said with a snort.

"She'll take you on a _magic carpet ride,_ that's for sure," Draco quipped, raising his eyebrows and licking his lips.

Ginny's cheeks turned very red, but she kept her composure.  "And I didn't even take you all around the world this time . . ."

Draco grinned.  "I have my passport ready, love."

Ginny smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.  "_Mmmmm._"

"Gag me!" Nia begged.

"Better yet, Ginny go back into your compartment.  They'll be wondering where you are soon," Angelina warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know.  Reckon I better think of an excuse for my absence, huh?"

"Better think quick, as well.  Come, I'll walk you there.  See you at the platform, Nia, Malfoy."

"Bye Angelina," Nia said with a trace of humor, for Draco was too busy looking at Ginny's backside to answer.  She decided to pat his.

"Oi!  I've been violated!" he exclaimed as he covered his butt.

Nia snickered.  "I'm sure Ginny appreciates you undressing her with your eyes."

"If this blasted train ride wasn't so short, I would've undressed her with my _hands!_"

Nia frowned and shuddered.  "Ugh.  Boys."

"There are no boys before you, love.  I am all man."

"And the sad thing is you believe that."

"Don't think I don't remember you doing the same thing to _me_ when we first met," he said with a raised eyebrow.

"I could make the same claim, as I recall."

Draco grinned.  "Touché."

Nia linked her arm through his and led them back to their car.  "I'm really gonna miss you this summer."

"And I you.  Unfortunately I don't think I'll be able to write you."

"Why not?"

"Do they have post owls in America?"

"Wouldn't know.  I never got one there before."

"As it is, I don't want to raise any suspicion with my father."

"But he's in Azkaban or whatever."

"He's a very powerful man.  He'll be out soon, if not already."

"No offense to you, Draco, but I hope he doesn't leave."

Draco said nothing.  Nia stopped walking and wrapped her arms around his neck.  Draco's went around her waist, and he squeezed tightly.

"You're not your father, you know," she whispered in his ear.

Draco chuckled hollowly.  "Funny, Ginger said the same thing."

"We already have pet names for her?  You're in deeper than I thought."

"Bugger off, Little One."

She laughed and pulled away a bit.  "Just think of me as the litter sister you never had."

"Or wanted."

She gasped and hit his shoulder.  "Dragon!"

"At least I get a three month reprieve . . ."

Nia linked arm and began walking again.  "Be glad, because next year will be a doozy."

END OF PART I 

_A/N:  Well, yeah.  This all started as something to do during work when things were slow, and then it blossomed into this 22+ chapter story.  Many many MANY thanks goes to my WONDERFUL, MAGNIFICENT, BOMB beta reader Liberty (freelancer—read her stuff here, it's to DIE for) for guiding me and helping me with canon, Britspeak, and just generally letting me know if something works or not.  Thanks to my reviewers and people who've taken the time to read this little ole thing.  I appreciate the comments SO much; they are most invaluable tools. _

_Fear not, this is just the end of Part 1; Part II is now up as well.  Once again, thank you all! __J_


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